


Second Thoughts

by PennyLane



Category: Angel: the Series
Genre: Action/Adventure, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-04
Updated: 2013-06-04
Packaged: 2017-12-13 23:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 32,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/830260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PennyLane/pseuds/PennyLane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Angel S1. Set post ‘To Shanshu in LA’. When Giles need a still-convalescent Wesley’s help with a translation, the battered detectives of Angel Investigations reluctantly return to Sunnydale. Meanwhile the Scoobies find that Cordelia and Wesley are not exactly as they remember them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Second Thoughts

Angel wasn't used to jumping at every small sound or movement around him. But then he wasn't used to the humans in his care getting caught in explosions or ending up in psychiatric units either. It was going to take him a while to climb down from that pillar of anxiety where he was currently perched.

At the moment the only sounds in Cordelia's apartment, aside from the low murmur of the TV set on the Style channel, was a muted clatter as Cordelia chose and discarded nail polish bottles, and the occasional soft moan from Wesley when he moved in his sleep on the sofa. Any sound from Wesley would bring Cordelia's head up sharply and she would stare at him, a little frown of worry between her perfectly arched brows, until he settled down again. Then she would go back to her pedicure while Angel continued to watch Wesley for signs of discomfort. Cordelia hadn't seen Wesley like Angel had: lying sprawled on the steps of the basement like a broken toy while fire raged and burning beams crashed around him. She hadn't seen him on the gurney, his face deathly white under the burns, with an oxygen mask to aid his breathing. And she hadn't seen him struggling past his own pain and disorientation to translate and read the words on the scroll which released her from the spell that was driving her mad. Wesley hadn't seen Cordelia at her worst either, strapped to the bed as she thrashed and tried to escape the horrific visions assaulting her mind. He was glad neither one of them had to see the other that way, although from the way they kept watching each other, he suspected they knew how bad it had been.

Cordelia had been released from the hospital when the doctors could find nothing wrong with her, and she immediately went to spend her time at Wesley's bedside, doing a much better job of making him smile and keeping him occupied than Angel ever could. She seemed fully recovered from her ordeal, and the only difference Angel could see in her was a new pride in the way she talked about being Vision Girl and a new determination to make a difference. 

Wesley hadn't been so lucky. Aside from his collection of contusions, cuts and burns, he had a concussion and had wrenched his back. The doctor had released him from the hospital yesterday as there was no further reason to keep him there, but he was groggy from the pain medication and moving around with all the agility of an eighty-year old with arthritis. Neither Angel nor Cordelia felt comfortable with him staying by himself so, ignoring Wesley's objections, they'd brought him here and made a place for him in Cordelia's living room. Angel thought things would probably get back to normal once Wesley's face stopped looking like that of a battered spouse and he stopped running to Cordelia's side every time she rubbed her temple.

They all three jumped when Cordelia's phone rang, Wesley murmuring something in his sleep before sighing and falling silent again, and Angel watched as the phone floated over to where Cordelia was holding out her hand in anticipation. 

"Thanks, Dennis." Cordelia hugged the receiver between her shoulder and jaw as she continued to paint her toenails. "Hello." Angel could make out the sound of a male voice on the other end of the phone, but not what was being said. Cordelia frowned a little. "And hello to you, too. No, the phones at the office aren't working right now, so we're working out of my place."

In fact, the phones at the office were melted puddles of plastic at the bottom of the debris that was all that was left of Angel Investigations. He saw Cordelia glance at Wesley.

"No, I'm afraid that's not possible right now." She rolled her eyes and murmured, "Everything always is." She set her nail polish aside and gave her full attention to the conversation. "Planes, cars, trains. They'll all bring you here to sunny Los Angeles." She listened for a few moments longer, her mouth firmed into a straight line. "Too bad you never thought to tell him that when he was there." She actually laid the receiver in her lap as the man on the other end continued talking. Finally, she picked it up and interrupted, "You need to talk to Angel about this." She held the phone out to him and said crisply, "Giles."

He made a face and reluctantly accepted the receiver. "Did something happen to Buffy?" he asked Cordelia. He thought that unlikely given her reaction, but phone calls from Sunnydale always brought a feeling of dread.

"Other than the fact that somewhere along the line she felt the world revolved around her? No."

Angel raised the phone with a sigh. After what happened with Angelus and Jenny, things were uncomfortable at best between him and Giles. "Hello."

"Angel." Giles' voice was clipped and very British. "I don't know what Cordelia's playing at, but I don't have time for games. I need to speak to Wesley."

Angel glanced toward the sofa as Cordelia had done. "He's not available right now."

"What the bloody hell does that mean?"

"Means he's not available right now," Angel repeated a bit firmer. Then he asked, "Is there anything I can do?"

"Not unless you can translate Kaz'halg," Giles retorted somewhat haughtily.

"Kaz'halg." Angel frowned, trying to remember anything he knew about that demon group. "Don't they write in some sort of code?"

Giles sounded as if he was striving for patience. "Yes they do. Which is why I need to talk to Wesley. As I tried to tell Cordelia, Wesley is the finest linguist of demon languages that I know, and furthermore he successfully decoded some Kaz-halg writings at the Watchers Academy that had stumped linguists there for years."

"He's a smart guy." Angel spoke with pride in his tone, and added with meaning. "I'm lucky to have him on my team."

"Yes, Angel, I know Wesley works for you now. But you don't control him, and you can't speak for him. Now, please tell me how to get in touch with him."

"Giles, I’m sorry you need something translated, but --"

"Listen to me, Angel. Two people died to get this scroll to me because they thought I could translate it; I can't. Does that give you some idea how urgent this is?"

"Then bring the scroll here." Wesley wasn't in any shape to be put under the kind of pressure this promised, but under proper supervision by himself and Cordelia to make sure he got plenty of rest, he could probably give some assistance to Giles if it was that important.

"It's much too dangerous," Giles said sharply. "Didn't you hear what I said? Two people have already died transporting this information. The last thing we need to do is move it and once more put it in danger of being stolen."

"I'm sorry, Giles. But right now Wesley can't make a trip to Sunnydale to --"

"Angel?" Angel looked up to find Wesley awake and blinking sleepily at him. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing's wrong," Cordelia said firmly. "It's just Giles asking Angel about something."

Wesley began to fight his way ineffectually out of the blanket that had gotten wrapped around him during his sleep. "Why does he need me to come to Sunnydale?"

"He doesn't." Cordelia strode over to the sofa and began to efficiently untangle him from the blanket.

"Cordelia, I heard my name."

She gently pulled his bandaged hand out from under the blanket and laid it on top. "You were dreaming. I dream about people saying my name all the time."

"Yes, well, I don't." He gave Angel a look and held out his good hand.

Angel grimaced and was careful not to look at Cordelia as he handed over the phone. "What did you do that for?" she hissed.

"Not like I had much choice," he murmured, watching Wesley talk to Giles. "He would have just picked up the phone and called Giles himself."

"You could have lied to him." Cordelia had her arms folded across her chest, glaring at him.

Angel had a sinking feeling he probably should have, but it was too late now, and besides, it didn't feel right lying to Wesley.

Wesley was obviously still a little disoriented from sleep and his medication, and he was frowning deeply as he listened to Giles, but he nodded a few times and asked some questions which made no sense to Angel but obviously had to do with Kaz-halg. He automatically raised his bandaged hand to push back glasses that weren't on his nose because not only had they been twisted in the explosion, but he had a bad cut on his nose just where the nosepiece should be and he found it too uncomfortable to keep them on. Even unshaven, he looked younger than Angel was used to seeing him, and Angel thought of both Cordelia and Wesley as children in terms of age and experience. Wesley looked up at Angel, his expression troubled. "Yes, I understand. Of course I'll come."

Cordelia made a sound of disgust and walked away, but Angel was held captive by that pleading gaze. 

"I can be there...tonight?"

Wesley had made it a question, and Angel heaved a sigh and reluctantly nodded his head. If he didn't drive him there Wesley was just stubborn enough to call a cab or think he could take a bus. At least this way Angel could kid himself by thinking he was maintaining some control.

"All right, I'll see you then." Wesley held out the receiver and Dennis obligingly took it back, and Angel watched it float back to where it belonged.

The ensuing silence was broken by Cordelia turning back and demanding, "Are you out of your mind? You just got out of the hospital!"

"Cordelia --"

"You can barely walk all the way across the room without a back spasm."

"Cordelia --"

"And you just jump when those losers from Sunnydale call? Like those people are your friends? Like they showed you one scrap of human kindness when you were there the first time?"

Angel saw the little finch Wesley gave when she said this, but he merely very carefully smoothed out a wrinkle in the blanket with his good hand. "That's all water under the bridge," he murmured. "It was a long time ago. They need my help."

"Another musty old scroll? Don't we have one here that you seemed to think was so important?"

Wesley darted an anxious gaze at Angel. "It _is_ important. I was going to start to work on it tonight --"

Angel held up his hand. "Wesley, trust me, you weren't going to be translating anything until you were recovered." He and Cordelia would have seen to that. "What makes Giles' scroll so important?"

Wesley rubbed his forehead, then winced when his fingers came in contact with the gauze covering a cut. "Giles didn't go into details. Something about a counterspell. Apparently they have information regarding a vortex someone will attempt to open on the next full moon. This is apparently the only way to close it."

"And that's it?" Cordelia demanded. "That's what all the fuss is about? One little old vortex?"

"A vortex on a hellmouth, Cordelia," Wesley reminded her. "I doubt butterflies and kittens would be coming out of it."

"Or if they did they'd probably be blood-sucking butterflies and saber-toothed kittens," Angel mused, thinking of the possibilities.

Cordelia gave Wesley a level look. "Giles said you were the finest linguist he'd ever known."

Wesley's head shot up. "Really?" A pleased smile started to form on his face and then he quickly looked down and shrugged. "Giles knows I've translated Kaz-halg in the past. It was only logical he call me."

"Uh huh." Cordelia headed for the kitchen, jerking her head for Angel to follow. "It's time for your pills. And I'll make you some tea and a sandwich. You didn't eat all of your last one."

"The medicine takes my appetite away," Wesley explained, laying back down carefully. "And I don't want any more pills. They make my mind all fuzzy. I won't be able to translate if I've taken them."

"It'll be hours before we're in Sunnydale, Wes," Angel said, following Cordelia. 

"Besides which," Cordelia called out, "the car trip will wreck your back. If you don't take the muscle relaxers you won't be able to sit in a chair, let alone translate, so stop whining."

As soon as Angel entered the kitchen, Cordelia whirled around to face him, knife in hand from cutting bread for Wesley's sandwich. "I'm going too."

Angel frowned. "I'm not sure that's such a good idea. You just got out of the hospital too."

"Exactly. And what if I have a vision? Who's going to be with me if I'm here alone?" Angel opened his mouth, then shut it, seeing her point, although he didn't think she was arguing for herself. "Besides which, you can't be trusted to look after Wesley. He just gives you a look and you cave."

"I do not," he objected. "Well, not every time."

"Often enough," she said grimly. "And I’m not letting him walk back into that pack of Scoobies alone."

"He won't be alone."

"He might as well be," she said crisply, turning back to the sandwich. "You probably don't even remember what they were like with him; you were too busy seeing everything through Buffy-colored glasses. But I remember. And Buffy was the worst of them. Her and Xander. Not to mention Giles." She cut through the bread with angry slices. "He's part of _our_ team now, Angel. They're not going to treat him the way they did before. I won't let them."

He laid a hand over hers to stop the knife as the strokes got angrier and angrier. "Neither will I," he said firmly. He actually remembered more than Cordelia gave him credit for, but she was right in that his whole world back then had been Buffy. He hadn't spared many thoughts for the new Watcher in town, other than that incident with Faith, but while he'd never taken part in the Wesley-baiting in Sunnydale, he wasn't unaware of it. As he picked up the kettle and filled it with water, he determined there would be none of that this time around. Wesley wasn't the new Watcher in town, he wasn't replacing anyone, and he had nothing to prove. As Cordelia said, Wesley was part of their team now, and he had his own place with them.

***

They'd left Los Angeles before sundown because Cordelia argued the timing of Wesley's pills meant the medication would be at its strongest in his system and the trip would be easier for him. So Angel had climbed into the back of the car and gotten under a blanket without a word of protest. Cordelia drove until the sun went down, and then Angel took over. They both made frequent stops and saw to it that Wesley got out and walked around so his back didn't stiffen up too much. At their last stop before Sunnydale there were fine lines of pain around his mouth, but he refused to take any more pills, reminding them that he needed a clear head. Angel had to stop Cordelia from dropping the pills into Wesley's coffee when he went off to use the restroom, even though he'd briefly had the same thought at their last rest stop. 

When Wesley came out of the restroom, walking stiffly and listing slightly to one side, Cordelia handed him his coffee, then held out three capsules in her hand. "It's Tylenol, Wesley. Over the counter. It won't fuzz up your head, but it should help with the pain. And so help me, if you don't take them, Angel's prepared to hold you down and I'm prepared to hold your nose, got it?"

Wesley blinked at her in surprise, then slowly smiled and took the pills from her palm, washing them down with coffee. "Thank you, Cordelia."

Cordelia had obviously been expecting an argument because she first looked surprised, then quickly covered it with an approving expression. "That's better. Now let's get moving. We're almost in Scooby-land."

"There's a cheery thought," Wesley murmured as he followed her to the car. 

As he got behind the wheel, Angel really thought about the fact he was returning to Sunnydale with his team for the first time. Cordelia hadn't been back since she left the town for Los Angeles in her bid to become an actress. Wesley hadn't been back since he'd left on a motorcycle to become a Rogue Demon Hunter. But neither Cordelia nor Wesley were failures; Cordelia carried visions from The Powers which allowed them to help the helpless, and Wesley had become an integral part of their team, someone Angel could rely on and whose courage he didn't question. Now they were all returning to Sunnydale as Angel Investigations, as the family they'd become. He remembered how he felt when Cordelia and Wesley were in the hospital and he thought he was going to lose them both. It had never hit him quite so hard before that these young humans were his family now and he would do anything to protect them and keep them safe. He had no doubts about Cordelia being able to handle herself where the Sunnydale team was concerned; after all, she'd done it all her life. But he wasn't sure about Wesley. Wesley had left Sunnydale as a failed Watcher, and while he'd been there he'd earned no respect from anyone on Buffy's team. Angel had seen a lot of changes in Wesley since he first showed up in Los Angeles, jobless and hungry, and all those changes were good. He'd more than proven himself with his courage, intelligence and loyalty, and Angel was proud to have him not only on his team but as his friend. He didn't want to see any of Wesley's hard-earned self-confidence and new assurance undone by some unthinkingly cruel remarks from anyone on the other team. 

As they passed the sign welcoming them to Sunnydale (Welcome to the Hellmouth would have been more appropriate but he doubted the Chamber of Commerce would have approved such a sentiment) Angel glanced at Wesley. He could sense the growing anxiety in him the closer they got to their destination, but whether it was because he was worried about the translation or once again having to work with people who'd wanted nothing to do with him the first time he was there, Angel didn't know. 

As if reading his mind, Cordelia spoke up from the back seat. "So, is Giles going to be able to help you with this translation, or is he going to be like totally useless and expect you to do all the work?"

"I'm afraid of the two of us, I'm the only one who's had any experience translating Kaz-halg."

"Okay, here's a thought. Why don't you all just go find one of these Kaz-hags and have _them_ translate it for you?"

"The Kaz-halg is an extinct race, Cordelia," Angel told her. "Has been for a few centuries."

"Another extinct demon race." Cordelia leaned forward so she was resting her chin on the seat between them. "Hey, didn't you have a knife to kill extinct demons, Wesley? Might come in handy now."

"Yes, Cordelia, I still have the knife. Luckily it suffered no lasting damage after coming in contact with your cooking."

Angel didn't know if that had been Cordelia's intention, but the resulting bickering seemed to take Wesley's mind off what lay ahead and Angel could feel his tension lessen considerably. It didn't spike again until he pulled to a stop in front of the Magic Box where they'd been told to meet Giles. The lights were on inside and Angel had no doubt Buffy, Xander and Willow at the very least would be there with him. 

As she climbed out of the back seat, Angel heard Cordelia mutter under her breath, "It's show time."

 

The mood inside the Magic Box was tense and growing tenser. There would have been anxiety aplenty if their area of concern had been limited to the Kaz-halg scroll and the deadline looming in front of them. But Giles could hear the thumps in the back room as Buffy abused the training equipment in an attempt to work out her feelings over seeing Angel again. And Xander, who should have been helping himself, Willow and Tara in their research, was only irritating everyone by making a constant stream of inappropriate -- if perhaps accurate -- remarks about Angel, Wesley and Cordelia. Willow was pointedly ignoring him, but Tara looked confused and a little worried about the strangers that were due to invade their little group. For his part, Giles wasn't pleased he needed to call on Wesley Wyndam-Pryce for assistance. He'd had his fill of the young Watcher the first time around, and he wasn't looking forward to having the man in his stiff suit and tie and his hair brylcreemed into submission walk in here with his snotty attitude and take over as if it were his due. That worked so well the first time around.

His conversations with Cordelia and Angel had both been exceedingly strange, as if they'd been trying to protect Wesley from him. Frankly he found it almost impossible to believe that Wesley was still working for Angel, and that the vampire hadn't drowned him months ago. 

"There's nothing in this one." Willow closed the heavy book she'd been paging through with a sigh and shoved it aside. 

Tara looked up and said apologetically, "I'm not finding anything either."

They both had dark circles under their eyes from staring at print for so long, and as desperate as their situation was, Giles felt his heart melt a little as Willow and Tara both reached for another book, determined to carry on. "Why don't we take a break?" he suggested. "Perhaps some tea?"

"Don't you have anything with some nutritional value to it?" Xander asked. "Like Doctor Pepper or Mountain Dew?"

"If you want colored sugar water to pour into your system, Xander, you will have to go elsewhere," he replied stiffly.

"I think tea sounds lovely," Tara offered shyly.

"Yeah, do you have any of that orangey-spicy tea like we had the last time?" Willow asked. "That was filled with yummy goodness."

"Yes, I believe I do. Orangey-spicy all around then?"

"Well, if that's all you're offering..." Xander said glumly

"As I said, you're welcome to go out into the night and purchase your own refreshments, Xander."

Willow got to her feet. "We'll fix it, Giles. We don't mind, do we, Tara?"

Tara smiled up at her and got to her feet. "Not at all." 

They both looked relieved to get to their feet and move around, and Giles let them go. It would probably do them all some good to get up and move around a bit. In fact, going into the back and working out with Buffy was having some appeal at the moment. As Willow and Tara gathered around the tea supplies he could hear Tara whisper, "Was this Wesley as bad as Xander says? Giles doesn't seem too happy about him coming back."

"Wesley was kind of...not good with people," Willow said finally. "He was like the new kid in class who came in and made a really bad impression on his first day in school, and then no one wanted to be friends with him." 

"Oh, ouch," Tara said softly.

"Yeah. I think he was really smart, but it was really hard for him to fit in."

Tara got the teabags out of the tin and put one in each teacup. "I kind of know how that is," she said carefully.

Willow looked up from pouring the water into the Mr. Coffee. "What do you mean? You're great at fitting in! Look how well you fit. You're smart _and_ you fit in. Shows it can be done."

The other girl looked down for a moment, then back at Willow, her voice even lower. "Willow, I don't think you realize how tight you and Buffy and Xander are. I mean, how you look to outsiders, and how hard it is for anyone else to...belong."

Willow began to look upset. "What do you mean? You belong."

"Yeah, kind of, now."

"Not kind of, you _do_."

Tara laid a hand on her arm, "Willow, I don't want to upset you. I just wanted you to realize you and Buffy and Xander and even Giles, can seem like a club, and it's easy for people to feel excluded."

"But, we're friends. We're not trying to exclude anyone."

"I know. And there's nothing wrong with you being friends, and close friends, but just try to see it from someone else's viewpoint."

"You mean...someone like Wesley? Who came into town and didn't know anyone and who was supposed to replace Giles..."

Tara nodded. "New kid in class and no one wanted to be friends."

Willow frowned as she poured the hot water into each mug. "To be fair, I don't think Wesley really wanted to be friends with any of us. He kind of just wanted to boss everyone around."

Tara said thoughtfully, "Okay. But that was then and this is now. How about we give him the benefit of the doubt this time?"

Willow smiled at her as she put the cups onto a tray. "I think we should." Then her smile faded. "But I don't know if the others will. It wasn't a very happy time between them."

"Well, we're only responsible for our own actions," Tara said sensibly. "So we'll just try to keep an open mind, okay?"

The look of pinched tiredness seemed to fade from Willow's face as she smiled fondly at Tara. "Smart _and_ you fit in."

Giles sighed and moved some books aside as they came back to the table with the tray of tea. Keeping an open mind where Wesley Wyndam-Pryce was concerned wasn't as easy as Tara made it sound. And he really didn't have the time or the patience to worry about it.

He had just picked up his cup of tea when the bell over the door chimed and he looked up to find Cordelia standing in the doorway. She paused for a moment, and looked around, her gaze steely, and then stepped aside. She looked the same as Giles remembered, if a little thinner, still entering every room as if she expected to be the center of attention. But instead of coming all the way in to accept whatever accolades she expected, she stayed by the door as the second person entered. Giles set his cup back down with a thump as he recognized the tall, thin body all but shuffling into the room. "Good lord." If he hadn't been expecting to see Wesley Wyndam-Pryce, he wasn't sure he would have recognized him.

"Holy crap." That was Xander, who dropped his feet to the floor from their prop on the table. "What happened to the junior Watcher?"

"Shut up, Xander," Giles said sternly.

Behind Wesley, Angel filled the doorway, his face closed off as he looked around the room. He had his hand on Wesley's arm, and Giles could see the grip was tight enough to be supporting some of his weight. The man looked as though he'd been plucked directly out of an automobile wreck. There was a large piece of gauze on his forehead, and another on one cheek. He was pale and unshaven, but there were spots of reddened skin on his face that looked like burns. An angry cut on his nose probably accounted for his lack of glasses, and Giles could see his left hand was almost fully bandaged where it was sticking out from under a sweater that seemed too large for him. Everything seemed too large for Wesley. He was wearing a tee shirt under his sweater, and even so there was no bulk to the man at all. 

"Well, here we are," Cordelia said in a loud voice. "If everyone is finished staring, maybe there's a chair where Wesley can sit down now?"

Before Giles could get to his feet, Tara was already up and pulling out a chair. "Here you go."

Angel steered Wesley over to the chair, and Giles could see from the careful way Wesley was moving that he must be in some considerable pain. But the man gave Tara a sweet smile as he slowly sat down. "Thank you. I don't believe I...?"

"I'm Tara," she said quickly. "Willow's friend."

"Thank you, Tara."

Giles looked around to see Cordelia giving him a cool look. "He insisted on coming."

Xander was frankly staring at Wesley, but Giles knew the man wouldn't want a fuss. He thought he knew exactly what he needed under the circumstances. "Wesley, can I offer you some tea?"

Wesley looked like a man dying of thirst who had just been offered a cool drink of water. "Oh yes, please."

"We'll get it," Willow offered. She smiled at Wesley. "Hi, Wesley."

"Willow." The man found a smile for her too, although Giles could see the puzzlement in his eyes, as if he hadn't expected any pleasant amenities. "It's nice to see you again. You're looking well."

Her smile faltered. "You're...so not. Are you sure you should be here? And not in a hospital?"

"He was in a hospital," Cordelia said in an unfriendly tone. "He just got out yesterday."

"Cordelia," Wesley reproved softly. 

"I'll make the tea," Cordelia announced, striding over to the counter. "I know how he likes it."

Willow and Tara exchanged a look, and then sank back down into their seats. Giles turned to Angel who was still standing silently at Wesley's shoulder, and said quietly, "Buffy's in the back room, in case you'd like to see her. In private." He thought they'd all much rather Buffy and Angel met first in private; that way they didn't have to hear anything they didn't want to hear, and nothing out front would get broken. 

"Thanks. That'd probably be a good idea." Giles saw him give Wesley's shoulder a careful squeeze, then he moved silently and gracefully toward the back room.

As he passed, Giles said in a low tone, "You should have told me."

"Would it have made a difference?"

Giles took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes. "It wouldn't change the deadline we're facing or the fact that Wesley at present is the only person who can help us," he admitted.

"Not much point in mentioning it then, was it? Besides, it was Wesley's choice." Angel looked at the closed door where they could hear the thumps of exercise equipment being pummeled, then back at Giles. "But understand this, Giles. I won't let him work himself back into the hospital. He nearly died a few days ago, and you can see the kind of shape he's in. Wesley may be the only person in this room who can translate Kaz-halg, but everyone here is going to have to step up to the plate. You're not putting all that pressure on him alone." Then Angel continued over to the door to the back room and stepped inside.

As soon as the door closed behind Angel, Xander turned to Wesley. "So what in the heck happened to you, Wesley? You look like road kill."

"Xander." Cordelia's voice cracked like a whip from across the room. "Our bags are still in the car. Since you're obviously not doing anything important, why don't you bring them in?"

"And Queen C is back in town." Xander got to his feet and made a show of bowing in Cordelia's direction. "Of course, your majesty. Whatever your majesty desires."

"Xander." Wesley's voice was very quiet, but something about it made everyone stop and look at him. "Her name is Cordelia."

Xander looked momentarily taken back, but then he leaned toward Wesley and replied. "Yeah. I've known that since kindergarten, _newbie_." As Xander turned around Giles made sure he saw the look of complete disapproval on his face and perhaps just a little bit of Ripper besides. It did give Xander a moment's pause, and he quickly left the shop to retrieve the bags without another word.

There was the sound of tins rattling from the counter. "What's all this herbal crap? Where's the English Breakfast tea? What kind of an Englishman do you call yourself, Giles?"

The sound of Wesley chuckling softly made Giles look at him in surprise. He didn't think he'd ever heard Wesley laugh. Wesley was watching Cordelia with open affection on his face. "She hasn't really grasped that Englishmen can drink more than one type of tea," he told Giles dryly.

Giles found his own mouth twitching in response. "The brown tin behind you, Cordelia. No, does that look brown to you? If you put that in Wesley's tea I won't be responsible for the results." When Wesley looked at him, eyebrows raised, he explained, "Pitcairn root."

"Not that tin, Cordelia," Wesley said firmly. "I happen to like my body hair just where it is."

Cordelia gave him a look as she pointedly picked up the correct tin and pulled out a teabag. "Eww, and TMI."

As Cordelia continued to clatter the tea implements at the counter, Giles looked at Wesley and said in a much kinder tone than he ever imagined using with the man, "You should have told me."

Wesley sat up a little straighter in his chair, then winced. "My injuries won't affect my ability to translate, I assure you."

Giles opened up his mouth to say something sharp to the other man, insulted that Wesley would think that was all he cared about when Wesley was obviously in a great deal of pain and should probably be resting, not working. Good lord, was this really the same man who'd been whining for an aspirin after being felled with one punch at graduation? But then he felt his indignation melt into guilt. What else would Wesley think, really? They'd let the man leave Sunnydale on a motorcycle without any of them showing one sign of regret to go off and hunt demons on his own, something that promised to get him killed in short order. Then when he did find out Wesley was in Los Angeles with Angel and Cordelia, the first time he bothered to contact him was to demand he come to Sunnydale because he was needed to translate something. He sighed, and said quietly, "No, I'm certain they won't."

"May I see the scroll?"

"Of course." Giles reached across the table and brought the scroll forward, carefully unrolling it for him. 

Wesley took one look at the cramped lines of small, finely detailed characters on the page and blanched. "Oh dear," he breathed, "I'd forgotten how small it could be. My glasses were somewhat damaged, but I'll try to --"

"Magnifying glass," Willow said immediately. "Can you use a magnifying glass?"

"Yes, of course. That would work." Wesley looked relieved. "Do you have one?"

"I have quite a good one as it so happens," Giles told him. 

Tara stood up. "I know where it is. I'll get it."

As she hurried off, Xander pushed the door open and dropped the bags to the floor. "What the heck did you pack in here, rocks?"

Wesley looked across at Giles. "I'm afraid we lost most of our research books at the office, but I had a few in my flat that I thought might be useful. And my notes from my previous translation at the Academy."

"Well done. I've got some here as well. We'll do everything we can to assist you, Wesley."

Tara carried over a large magnifier on a stand and sat it down carefully on the table. "Will this do?"

"Splendid," Wesley murmured, "thank you." 

As Wesley adjusted the magnifier over the aged scroll, Xander walked over to where Cordelia was scooping sugar into Wesley's tea. "So, you've still got a thing for the English guy, don’t you?"

Giles looked quickly at Wesley, but he was already absorbed in the scroll and didn't appear to hear them.

"A thing?" Cordelia stopped stirring the tea and looked up at Xander. "I have the same 'thing' for Wesley that you do for Willow, Xander. Wesley is my friend. My best friend." Suddenly Xander had the end of a spoon poked hard against the center of his chest. "And if you or anyone else here at Loser Central tries to treat him the way you did when he was here the first time, you'll deal with me. Got it?"

Xander actually took a step back, which was apparently all the answer Cordelia needed as she dropped the spoon onto the counter, and carried the cup over to the table. Setting it down beside Wesley, she said, "Tylenol, Wesley."

Without looking up, Wesley held out his hand. She dropped the tablets into his palm and he automatically popped them into his mouth, then took a drink of tea before continuing to study the scroll. "Thank you, Cordelia."

Tara was smiling sweetly at the scene as if it were no more than she expected. But at least Xander and Willow had that wild-eyed, stunned look about them that one would expect from someone thinking they'd stumbled into an alternate reality. Since when did Cordelia truly care about anyone but herself? And when did she turn into someone who made tea and dispensed medicine and looked after someone who could realistically be classified as an invalid? And what had Angel been going on about? Giving orders and directives regarding Wesley as if Wesley was someone he was entitled to give orders about. It was true they may not have treated Wesley as well as they could have when he was in Sunnydale, but the worst that had happened to him here was a few moments of unconsciousness. He had left Sunnydale on his own two legs and without a scratch on him. For all his posturing, Angel apparently wasn't able to make the same claim. And Wesley. Giles tried, but he couldn't see the young, stodgy, priggish Watcher he'd known then in this soft-spoken, quietly dignified, and somewhat rumpled man who was currently peering through a magnifying glass at writings only he was able to understand. What had changed him? Was it his solitary time as a demon hunter? Had he found some backbone and self-confidence when he was on his own? Or was it... Giles couldn't quite bring himself to believe this new version of Wesley was the result of the months he'd spent with Angel and Cordelia. Neither of them had ever seemed particularly...nurturing. Yet they both seemed somewhat insanely protective of the young man.

"I know time is of the essence, Mr. Giles --"

"Please, Wesley, I think that time is long past. Just Giles."

Wesley nodded. "All right. Giles." He sounded as if he was trying out the sound on his tongue and was a little unsure of the results. "I know time is of the essence, but I would like to have a bit more information about how the scroll came to be here and what we're up against. When Angel returns perhaps you'll bring us up to speed?"

Giles had to give him credit for his tactful way of asking, not demanding, information and acknowledging Giles was the one in charge. "Of course."

As if waiting for their cue, the door to the back room opened and first Buffy and then Angel walked out. Buffy looked a bit subdued, and Angel had that look of sadness in his eyes he usually got when he was around her. As she walked over and sat down near Giles he saw Cordelia move over to stand behind Wesley and fold her arms as if daring Buffy to say anything. She really was acting most peculiarly.

Cordelia nodded at her. "Buffy."

Buffy nodded back, but she was staring at Wesley. "Cordelia." 

Wesley offered her a tentative smile. "Hello, Buffy."

"Geez, Wesley, you've got even more bruises than the last time I saw you."

Cordelia gave her a narrow-eyed look and said in a steely voice, "Well, the last time you saw him he'd only been tortured for a few hours. This time he got caught in an exploding building."

There was a collective gasp in the room as everyone turned in bewilderment to stare at Wesley as he hissed, "Cordelia." It took Giles about two seconds to access his memories and realize the last time Buffy saw Wesley was when she went to Los Angeles after Faith's escape. He put the words 'torture' and 'Wesley' together in that scenario, not liking what he came up with one bit, and he gave Angel a look that promised they'd be talking later. Angel just grimaced and moved a step closer to Wesley who was giving Giles a pleading look. "Giles was just going to fill us in on what we're up against," he said somewhat hurriedly.

Giles nodded immediately, recognizing that look of distress in his eyes. "Of course. Wesley asked that I bring you all up to speed as to our situation and what we're facing." He proceeded to give a succinct account of how the Watcher's Council had managed to infiltrate a group composed of human mages and half-breed demons who worshipped a powerful ancient demon called Haach-mal. They'd somehow obtained an amulet that would open a vortex in Sunnydale on the next full moon that would release Haach-mal into their dimension. Unless they could find and stop the worshippers in time, their only alternative was to use the counter-spell in the scroll. While Wesley was working on the translation for the counter-spell with any help they could give him, they would also be researching for any information they could find on Haach-mal and his worshippers.

"Does the Council still have someone undercover in the group?" Angel asked.

"No, unfortunately their agent was discovered and killed, but he at least had been able to pass on the scroll before they found him out. The person he passed it on to managed to put the scroll into a package and mail it to me before he too was captured and killed." Giles paused and looked at Wesley, softening his voice. "I'm sorry, Wesley. I believe you knew him. Roger Hainsley."

"Roger?" Wesley cup rattled in its saucer as he sat it down quickly. "Oh, dear lord." As Cordelia tentatively touched his shoulder, he drew a deep breath. "Roger and I went through the Academy together. Played on the cricket team. I spent quite a few weekends at Roger's country home with him and his family." He looked up at Giles. "Roger's older brother, Geoffrey, was killed in the Ukraine last year."

Giles nodded. "Yes, I remember."

Wesley fingered his teacup and murmured, "I'll have to call his mother. She's lost both her sons now. Roger's father died when we were still in the Academy."

"Watcher?" Buffy asked quietly, sliding a look at Giles.

Wesley nodded. "Yes."

She lifted her chin and said firmly, "Then we'll just have to see to it he didn't die in vain, won't we?"

Giles saw Wesley's jaw tighten as he smoothed out the scroll in front of him. "Yes, we will."

Angel was frowning apparently at his own thoughts. "Is there any chance they know you have the scroll?"

Giles grimaced, and didn't look at Wesley when he answered. "I'm afraid Roger Hainsley didn't die quickly. They would have certainly attempted to secure the information, and it's entirely possible they used a spell on him to try to extract it."

"But Roger would have been prepared for that," Wesley said quickly.

Buffy frowned. "What do you mean?" 

"Counter-spell," Giles explained. "If he had time to use it. I'm afraid there's no way of knowing really. At least no one has shown up at my front door as yet."

"The night's still young," Angel pointed out grimly. "What's the plan for protection?"

Buffy got to her feet. "Us," she said simply. "You and me. I think we can handle anything human or half-demon they throw at us."

"Probably. But it would be nice to have a little warning if a dozen half-demons or humans with machine guns try to storm the place." Angel looked around him, and Giles knew what he was thinking. A round of machine gun fire wouldn't do much more than slow him down, but if anyone made it inside the Magic Box and began firing automatic weapons, a lot of the humans could die in a very short time.

"That's exactly what we said," Willow spoke up excitedly. "Tara and I have done some research and we found a spell. It would be like an early warning alert system, like knocking over empty bottles inside a door if someone comes in."

"Will it also keep _out_ the slavering half-demons and humans with machine guns?" Cordelia demanded.

"No, a protection spell of that magnitude would drain Willow and Tara," Wesley explained, "and it would need constant reinforcement. May I see the spell you plan to use?"

Tara obediently opened one of the books to the page she had marked and turned it around for him to see. He blinked at it, then moved it under the magnifying glass. "This would place a circle around the Magic Box, and it would be exactly as Willow described. She and Tara would sense it if it were breached." He looked at them. "I have a suggestion," he said hesitantly. "For a way to strengthen it and expand it. That is, if you think --"

"Oh yes," Willow broke in. "We're all for strengthening and expanding." Tara nodded agreement.

"All right then." He reached for a legal pad of paper and picked up his pen, writing quickly but neatly as they watched. When he was finished, he slid the pad over to them. "That spell would be more of a bubble, encasing the Magic Box above and below as well. The only flaw in the other spell is that it's like a fence, and something or someone would have to literally cross that line for you to sense it. This way, the whole building would be covered. I'm not too worried about below, but the roof could be vulnerable."

"Air strike?" Xander asked incredulously. Then he seemed to remember something, perhaps those military memories he could still access, and nodded. "Good thinking."

Willow and Tara were reading the spell avidly. "This is good," Willow murmured. "This is very good. I like the bubble. And we have all the ingredients right here." She looked up, wide-eyed. "You just had all that in your head?"

"The Academy requires you to have a lot of things in your head," Wesley said dryly. "Some of them a great deal more useful than others."

"Well, we'll just get what we need and get working on that spell. One bubble coming up," Willow said brightly, and she and Tara moved off to gather their supplies.

Angel was prowling restlessly back and forth. Obviously the information about the possibility of the Haach-mal worshippers tracking the scroll here had set him on edge. "Okay, we'll have the early warning spell, but we also need to reinforce the windows and doors and check for any weaknesses."

Buffy faced off against him, stopping him in his tracks. "Obviously. We know what to do, Angel. You're here as back-up. Giles and I will hand out the assignments and come up with the strategy --"

"You asked us to come here, remember? That doesn’t make me back-up. That puts my team on the front line along with yours."

"This is Sunnydale, not Los Angeles. The Hellmouth is my turf --"

"Oh for heaven's sake, will you two stop pawing the ground." Cordelia's heels clacked loudly as she walked between them and glared at them both. "We're in this together, and we don't have time for egos, so get over yourselves. Right now there's no Team Scooby and no Team Angel Investigations. We're all in this together." She turned around to face the rest of them. "All right. Wesley and Giles are working on the scroll, because obviously they're the only two who have a prayer at that Kaz-hag thing. Willow and Tara will do the spell and then they can research those demony worshipping guys and the amulet. Buffy and Angel will do the rounds and make sure the place is secure." She looked at Giles. "Do we have food? Blankets and sleeping bags and whatever?"

Still blinking a little at the way Cordelia had coolly taken charge, it took Giles a moment to answer. "We could use some more food, and more blankets if we're going to be here a few days."

She nodded. "Right. Xander and I will take care of the supplies." She held her hand out imperiously to Angel and wiggled her fingers. "Car keys."

Xander stood up. "Hey, why do I have to go with Cordelia? Why can't Angel go with her? Or Buffy?"

"Because Angel and Buffy can't leave here, doofus," Cordelia answered, retrieving her purse. "They've got people to protect."

Giles pulled his house keys out of his pocket and handed them to Xander. "You can get more blankets at my place. It wouldn't be a bad idea to bring some of the weapons from my weapons box as well. We're pretty well armed as it is, but it can't hurt." He saw Angel handing over money to Cordelia, and he did the same to Xander. "Try not to bring back only bags of potato chips and Nachos."

"Don't worry. Healthy food all around," Cordelia assured him, deftly plucking the bills from Xander's fingers. 

As they turned away, Giles took them both by the elbow and leaned in, his voice low. "Whatever the problem is between you two," he said evenly, "work it out before you come back here." Cordelia and Xander looked at one another, then Cordelia turned on her heel and strode out of the Magic Box, leaving Xander with no option but to trail along after.

 

As Cordelia pulled Angel's car out into the street, she said, "Okay, Giles' house to pick up blankets, grocery store to get food, and drug store to get some more Tylenol and ice packs for Wesley. Just the one isn't going to cut it."

Xander stretched his legs and looked at her. "Okay, what's the deal with you? When did you get all Ms. Organization Skills?"

She glanced over at him. "I run an office, Xander. I have to know how to organize. I do the billing, I do the advertising, I come up with ideas how to get new clients, I meet with the new clients. It's what I do."

"I thought you went off to LA to be an actress. What happened with that?"

"It takes time to break into show business," she explained, not as sharply upset as she would have been once upon a time by that fact. "But I did a play," she said excitedly, "and I was the hands washing dishes for Sunnymaid Liquid Detergent. That was a _national_ commercial."

"I thought I recognized those perfectly manicured nails."

Cordelia gave him a little swat. "You did not."

Xander grinned. "Okay, I didn't. But that's great, Cordy. You'll get your big break."

"Yeah, it doesn’t happen overnight." Then in the same breath, she demanded, "Why were you such an ass to Wesley?"

Xander shrugged, looking out the side window. "It was a knee jerk reaction. He was a jerk, I reacted."

Cordelia pulled abruptly over to the sidewalk in front of Giles' apartment and slammed on the brakes, forcing Xander to throw out both hands to brace himself. "How was Wesley a jerk?"

"He's not a jerk _now_. Or at least he's not acting like one. So far. But he was Jerk Overachiever when he was here the last time. He won a badge in Jerkness. Thus the reaction."

"Well, I'm glad to see you have such an open mind, Xander."

"Are you saying he's not a jerk?"

"No, Wesley can be a jerk. All men can be jerks. What's your point?"

Xander looked confused and said a little uncertainly, "I'm not sure I have one."

Cordelia snorted. "What a surprise." She got out of the car and walked to Giles' door with Xander at her heels. As he unlocked the door, she ordered, "You get the weapons, I'll get the blankets."

 

Once the trunk was filled with blankets and weapons, Cordelia turned the car in the direction of the grocery store. 

Without prelude, Xander said, "Okay, I need to know what the deal is with Wesley."

"I told you what the deal is. Are you suffering from amnesia?"

"He's your friend, your best friend. He's the Willow in your life. I get that. I want to know what the deal is with torture and explosions. I mean, 'torture', 'explosion', 'Wesley'. Three words I never thought I'd say together in a sentence." He shifted in his seat so he was turned facing her. "I mean, torture? Who would torture Wesley? What would be the point? From what I remember, if you just look at him cross-eyed he screamed like a woman."

Cordelia compressed her lips. _He didn't scream this time_. Abruptly she bit out, "Psycho Slayer."

"Faith?"

"She knocked me out, then kidnapped him, tied him to a chair and tortured him for hours."

"Jesus." Xander sank back against the seat and sounded like he'd had the breath knocked out of him. "Why? I mean, okay, he screwed up when he was her Watcher, but --"

"She wanted to get Angel's attention." The gears groaned in agony as she angrily downshifted to stop at a red light. "She got it." Turning to look at Xander, she asked, "I suppose Buffy didn't mention that the last time she came back from L.A."

"No. No, she didn't." Xander was silent for a long time, and then asked in a more subdued voice. "What about now? The explosion?"

"Like I said. Someone blew up our office, and Wesley was in it. Angel saved him, and then Wesley saved me."

"Saved you?" Xander asked sharply. "From what?"

Cordelia accelerated slowly through the green light. She thought briefly about telling Xander about the visions, about the burden she carried, about the madness that had assaulted her and put her in a psychiatric ward, then said merely, "It's a long story." The visions were her burden, and they were part of her life in Los Angeles with Angel and Wesley. Xander wasn't a part of that, and somehow it didn't seem right to share it. 

"Are you happy, Cord?"

"Am I happy?" It was funny; Cordelia hadn't really given it any thought, but Xander's question made her consider it as she pulled into a parking space at the grocery store and turned off the engine. She thought of what her life had been like here in Sunnydale, how she'd been Queen C of Sunnydale High with a following of Cordettes. That life seemed so long ago, and so different from the one she had now. Back then it was all about being popular and wearing the right clothes and being seen with the right people. But now she had the visions and was a part of Angel Investigations and had a real purpose in life. Angel depended on her to be his link to the Powers That Be. It was her visions that sent Angel and Wesley out to save people, and what she did was important. For the first time in her life, she felt as if she had a purpose. But that wasn't all of it. She knew now that many of the people she had lumped into the 'friend' category when she was in Sunnydale were merely hangers-on who only wanted to be around her because she was popular. She still considered the Scoobies friends because of all they'd gone through together, and she and Xander had a past that would always be part of her, but her relationship with Angel and Wesley was different. She had told them once that she knew she had two people she could trust absolutely with her life, and that was new. She thought of Angel, a Champion, who had proven time and again he would do anything to keep her safe. And Wesley, who had held her hand and stayed by her side when she'd been impregnated with demon spawn, who always tried to protect her, whether it was from a faux-Angelus or Faith, the psycho Slayer, the person she could confide in without fear of judgment no matter what she told him, and the person who had climbed out of a hospital bed and into a wheelchair to do what needed to be done to free her of magic-induced madness. She'd never known friendships like the ones she had with Angel and Wesley. For all her working loosely with the Scoobies and that romance with Xander, she knew none of them had ever loved her the way those two did. And she loved them back, would do anything to keep them safe. "Yeah, I'm happy," she said finally, smiling to herself, thinking how good it was to have put the question to herself and come up with that answer. "My life may not have turned out exactly like I thought it would when I was in high school, but I'm happy. I do important work and I've got good people in my life who care about me, and I care about them." She opened the door to the car. "Now, come on, let's get that food, and we're only buying healthy stuff and tea."

 

The translation of the Kaz-halg was going excruciatingly slowly. Giles was certain some of that was due to the fact that Wesley was obviously in constant discomfort, and if the way he was rubbing his temple was any indication, probably had a raging headache as well. Still he persevered, squinting through the magnifying glass, consulting reference books, and then carefully writing out a translation of a few words at a time. Giles found there was very little he could do to help, which was frustrating, while Willow and Tara took on the task of keeping Wesley supplied with tea and fetching books when he asked for them. 

Wesley took a drink of the fresh cup of tea at his elbow and looked at the girls in surprise. "This is different."

"It's orangey-spicy herbal tea that Giles had," Willow said quickly, then looked anxious. "If you don't like it --"

"No, no, it's very good. Very refreshing." Wesley took another drink. "I'll have to get some for the office."

"I thought you were only allowed to have English Breakfast tea," Tara said teasingly.

Giles and Willow both looked at her in surprise. It was so rare for Tara to overcome her natural reticence to tease someone, especially someone who was a total stranger. Wesley seemed to recognize that as well because he lowered his voice to a whisper and replied gravely, "Well, as an Englishman it's true we are only allowed to drink certain types of tea. But if you promise not to report me to the British Tea Council...?"

Tara giggled, and Giles and Willow transferred their stares to Wesley. In all the time Wesley had been in Sunnydale, Giles had never suspected he even possessed a sense of humor. Certainly he had never responded to any teasing like... Giles checked himself sharply. The only teasing Wesley had received in Sunnydale during his tenure as Watcher had been more along the lines of mocking. He didn't recall anyone other than Cordelia treating him as anything other than a rather supercilious Watcher replacement who wasn't welcome. And again he was left wondering what -- or who -- had wrought these changes in Wesley from the person he'd known back then.

As Wesley sat up in his chair to reach across the table for a book he'd discarded earlier, he suddenly froze and a sound caught in his throat. Angel was at his side almost instantly, even though Giles had never seen him enter the room. 

"I think it's time for a break," Angel murmured, gently easing him back into his chair.

"It was just a spasm," Wesley said quickly, clearly expecting them all to believe that even though he'd gone dead white under the bandages on his face. 

"Which pretty much proves my point," Angel told him mildly. "Come on, I think it's time you spend a little quality time with that ice bag Cordelia packed."

"Shouldn't she be back now?" Wesley fretted. "They've been gone an awfully long time. This is a Hellmouth you know, Angel."

"A Hellmouth they both grew up in," Buffy reminded him, coming to stand on the other side of Wesley's chair. "Don't worry, they know how to stay out of trouble."

"I'll get the ice bag," Willow volunteered.

"And I'll fix up a place for him over by the fire," Tara said, quickly moving off to gather up the thickest duvet she could find.

"Angel, I can't stop now. The translation is just the first part. Then there's the code to deal with."

"Wes, you're not going to be able to deal with anything if your back gets so bad you can't even sit in a chair."

Wesley opened his mouth as if to argue, then just sighed and gazed up at Angel, looking very young to Giles' eyes. "All right. Just for a few minutes."

"Twenty minutes for the ice," Willow announced, holding up the ice pack. "That's the rule."

Wesley looked at her. "Whose rule?" he asked suspiciously.

"Well, actually, it's the recommended time on the ice bag, but it's Cordelia's rule too. She told me before she left to make sure you stayed on it for twenty minutes."

Angel slid a hand under one arm and nodded to Buffy who did the same. "Okay, here we go, easy."

Even as gentle as Angel and Buffy were with him, he gave a little grunt of pain as they got him to his feet, and with their help he shuffled over to the fireplace and looked down in dismay at the comforter Tara had arranged on the floor. "If I get down there, I'll never get back up."

"Hey, Slayer strength, vampire strength," Buffy reminded him cheerfully.

"Let us worry about that, Wes. You ready?" 

Wesley looked down at the floor which must have seemed a very long way away to someone whose back muscles had seized up. "I don't quite know how we're going to --"

"Trust exercises," Willow said suddenly. When they looked at her, she waved at Wesley's body. "It's like in acting class when they teach you to just fall backwards and trust the person behind you to catch you. Just let yourself go limp and fall back. If you're all tense, it'll just hurt more; this way your muscles will be all relaxed."

Wesley looked uncertain. "I'm not sure I can --"

"You don't trust me to catch you?" Angel asked, sounding a little hurt.

Wesley turned his head and gave him an odd look, then closed his eyes and let himself go limp. Angel neatly caught him and lowered him carefully onto the duvet, where Tara quickly placed the ice bag once she saw where he would be lying. "Oh, bloody hell," he groaned as his back made contact with the cold pack.

"I'm sorry!" Tara's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh god, I'm sorry, I thought --"

"No, no." Wesley flailed with his right hand for a moment before he caught hers and gave it a little squeeze. "It feels quite marvelous actually. It's just that first initial moment of contact. It's always a shock." He sighed and the lines of pain around his mouth actually eased as his eyelids fluttered shut. "Twenty minutes. You'll wake me if I fall asleep."

"Twenty minutes," Tara promised and gently placed his hand on his chest while Angel draped a cover over him.

Giles watched all this as if he were watching a play with characters he'd just been introduced to, rather than watching a scene with people he thought he knew. Tara moved off to rejoin Willow at a nearby table to pick up their research, and he heard her whisper, "He's so sweet." Willow nodded her agreement although she looked as puzzled as Giles felt. When he realized Angel, Wesley and Cordelia were coming here, he expected to see the people he knew from Sunnydale. Cordelia had been the definition of self-absorbed back then, a young woman who cared about her status, popularity and clothes to the exclusion of anything else. Now apparently she could step up and take charge of difficult situations, accept responsibility, and showed the kind of care and concern for Wesley that Giles had long seen Buffy, Xander and Willow show for each other. Wesley, with a few brief spurts of decency, had shown himself to be a jumped up little twit with a supercilious attitude and no talent whatsoever for getting along with people during his stay in Sunnydale. But the Wesley he was seeing today was someone who Angel and Cordelia were obviously very fond of, and he was obviously very fond of them. Not simply a working arrangement then as he'd assumed. On top of that, in the space of a very few hours he'd already seen more of the kind of knowledge and expertise Wesley possessed than the entire time he was on the Hellmouth. Wesley could have been quite useful here back then if he'd ... Giles' mouth twisted. Or if they had taken the time to get to know him instead of automatically treating him like the enemy. He watched as Angel straightened the cover over Wesley and then walked away. He was beginning to put the pieces together and formulate a theory as to what the key had been to expose this shiny new, clever, efficient and clearly happy Wesley Wyndam-Pryce to the world. Despite Angel's relationship with Buffy, Giles had never seen him as anything but a loner, but apparently his days -- or years -- as a loner were over. He had evidently found a place with two humans who trusted him and believed in him, and he clearly felt his responsibility to them quite keenly going by the way he talked so possessively of 'his team' and hovered so protectively over Wesley. It was as if Giles' entire world view had been fed into a kaleidoscope and someone had rotated the tube. 

 

Giles noted with approval that Tara and Willow had returned to their research and he did the same. He was peripherally aware of Angel and Buffy moving around the Magic Box, re-checking windows and doors, and of Angel peering out the window more and more anxiously as Cordelia and Xander didn't return. Willow and Tara were deep in a whispered conference as to whether or not to wake Wesley -- Tara's plaintive, 'But I promised' versus Willow's, 'But he really looks like he needs the rest' -- when both girls suddenly stopped and sat up straight. "Oh! Someone's coming," Willow said urgently.

When the door burst open, Xander and Cordelia stared at the array of weapons pointed at them, and Xander said, "Nothing says 'welcome' like a loaded crossbow."

Cordelia shrugged as she continued inside, "It's the Hellmouth, what can you expect?" As she passed Wesley, who was blinking drowsily awake from all the noise, she said brightly, "Oh good, you're awake." She rattled a plastic bag at him. "There's food." As she stepped behind the counter, setting filled bags on top, she continued meaningfully, "The trunk is full of weapons and blankets, Angel."

Looking nothing like a two hundred plus year old vampire who had once been the Scourge of Europe and more like someone who was used to taking directives from Cordelia, Angel simply headed out the door as Giles' kaleidoscope made another turn.

 

Willow and Tara were snuggled together on a blanket getting some much needed sleep, Xander and Cordelia were dutifully going through books looking for any mention of Haach-mal and how he could be fought it if became necessary, Wesley was back at work on his translation, and Giles was thinking about succumbing to a nice short nap, when Angel said suddenly, "I think I should go out and see if I can find out anything. If those worshippers are in Sunnydale, maybe I can get a lead on them."

Giles shook his head. "I don't think that would be wise, Angel. We don’t want word to spread that you're in town. At the moment, we don't know if Haach-mal's cult realize we have the counter-spell, but if it became known you were in town and asking about them, I think that would give them cause to suspect, and that's an advantage we don't want them to have if we can help it." He turned to Buffy, who was sitting on a table and listlessly turning pages in a book. "But I do think Buffy should go out on patrol as usual. I think we need to give the impression that everything is normal so no suspicions are raised."

He expected Buffy to jump at the idea, but instead she looked around the room uneasily. "Are you sure that's a good idea? We'd be stronger if Angel I were both here."

"I realize that, but I think it's important to keep up appearances. And we do have Willow and Tara's early warning system to put us on guard. We know now that it works."

"The tingle alarm," Buffy said dryly as she slipped nimbly to the floor, referring to Willow's description of feeling all tingly when Xander and Cordelia breached the spell bubble. "Okay, I'll patrol, but I'll hit areas nearby just in case. Shouldn't be anything suspicious about that."

"I could go with her," Xander volunteered, hastily stuffing a book back on the shelf.

"Not that I don't appreciate the company, but I'd feel better if everyone stayed here. If those demony guys do track that scroll to Giles, we're going to need you here, Xander. Everyone, keep your weapons handy."

"Buffy, here, take this." Cordelia dug into an overnight bag and brought out a cell phone. "The battery should be fine. It's Angel's; he never turns it on."

No one pointed out the obvious, that if they were suddenly invaded by a cult intent on murdering them, they probably wouldn't have time to dial a phone number, so Buffy just smiled and said, "Cool," tucking it in her jacket pocket before heading for the door.

When the door closed behind her, both Willow and Tara sat up suddenly, wide-eyed and awake. Willow said anxiously, "Someone's --"

"That was just Buffy leaving on patrol," Giles assured them. "And at least we know now that the alarm will wake you up if you're asleep," he added somewhat cheerfully.

Willow and Tara looked at one another, then both flopped back down and pulled a blanket over their heads.

Angel looked longingly at the closed door, then sighed and began checking doors and windows again. Cordelia opened the door to the small refrigerator where Giles kept inventory needing refrigeration and where Angel's supply of blood and Wesley's ice packs were now also stored, and pulled out one of the frozen gel packs. "Come on, research boy," she said briskly, poking Wesley on the shoulder with her index finger. "Time to make nice with Mr. Ice Pack again."

Wesley wrote a few words down, then went back to peering intently through the magnifying glass. "Cordelia, I'm at a very crucial part in the translation."

"It's all crucial, Wesley, including you being able to walk like a normal human being again." Cordelia folded her arms and refused to be ignored. "If you can tell me that following your physical therapist's orders and stretching out your muscles and using an ice pack to reduce the inflammation _hasn't_ helped, then you can go right ahead and sit there for the next twenty-four hours straight and I won't say a word." She waited expectantly as Angel quickly looked away to hide a smirk.

Giles could see from the expression on Wesley's face that he was considering telling her exactly that, but then he laid down his pen in capitulation and sighed. "Yes, Cordelia, as a matter of fact it has helped, and I’m feeling a great deal better because of it."

"Of course you are," she said smugly. "Which means I was right, and I rule. Now, come on."

Dutifully, Wesley slowly pushed himself to his feet, and Giles could see that he was indeed moving much better than he had been before, showing only a slight grimace of discomfort as he straightened his back. Giles still winced in sympathy as he walked slowly over to the duvet in front of the fire where Cordelia waited with the ice pack. As Angel took a step toward him, Wesley held up a hand. "I think I can actually do it myself this time, which is a vast improvement on the first time we tried this." He slowly lowered himself down while Angel and Cordelia watched, both poised to make a move if he needed help, and carefully stretched out on his back. Cordelia worked the frozen gel bag under him, wriggling it around until he hissed, "There." Then he slowly straightened his legs and sighed. As was the case every other time he laid down, he was asleep within minutes.

 

Over the next two days they settled into a routine that was both comforting and stressful. It was a comfort that everyone fell into their roles without the rivalry or contention Giles expected between the two teams. Angel and Buffy obviously felt most protective of their own teams and would occasionally 'paw the ground' as Cordelia had put it, but all in all they were working well with each other and neither one was trying to usurp the authority of the other. Everyone was sleeping in shifts now so there were always at least two people awake and working, with Angel usually in the background somewhere silently moving through the rooms of the Magic Box. Giles noticed that Wesley took full advantage of Cordelia's naps to work straight through without a break. That is, until Tara told him if he didn't at least get up and walk around to stretch his back muscles, she'd have no choice but, in her words, to 'rat him out' to Cordelia. Giles, Wesley, Angel and Xander, who were the ones awake, all looked at her in shock, but the girl held her ground and put on what Willow would call a 'resolved face' and refused to be moved. When Giles expected the obviously over-tired and stressed Wesley to snap back at her at the very least, the young man gently patted her hand and got to his feet. It was Xander, surprisingly enough who came up with the idea of strapping the gel bag to the back of the chair so Wesley could get the benefit of ice on his muscles, and fixed up a contraption so they could easily slip a fresh ice bag in and out. After that, Wesley was much more amenable to taking short breaks and walking around the Magic Box storeroom to keep his muscles stretched. Apparently, like most Watchers, Wesley was used to getting by on little sleep when necessary and seemed able to pace himself, but Giles still noticed Angel keeping a close eye on him, and he had no doubt the vampire was ready to step in if he thought Wesley was pushing himself too hard. He was just glad he wasn't the one responsible for that young man's well-being. Angel himself had taken to prowling around the exterior at night because neither Giles nor Buffy could come up with a good reason why he shouldn't, and he was too restless to stay inside all the time. Buffy kept up her patrols at night close to the Magic Box. There wasn't much vampire activity going on, but whether that was a good sign or a bad one, no one knew. 

At the same time it was stressful in that the deadline was fast approaching for them to either complete the translation of the counter-spell or find and defeat the cult of Haach-mal. The full moon wouldn't wait either way, and the time limit was down to forty-eight hours. 

"Oh." Wesley sat back in his chair, frowning, which got the attention of Giles, Cordelia, Willow and Buffy. Everyone else was sleeping, wrapped up in blankets on the floor.

"What is it?" Giles asked uneasily.

Wesley looked across the table at him, and Giles noted how bloodshot his eyes were and how dark the circles under his eyes. His hair stuck up in all directions from where he had been running his hands through it, and he looked like someone who needed to be fed a hot meal and then tucked into bed for twelve hours of sleep. "Are you certain about your information regarding the full moon?" Wesley asked hesitantly.

"Did you find something to contradict that?" he asked with a sinking heart. "The information was obtained from the undercover informant and passed on. There's nothing in writing."

"What've you got, Wes?" Angel was leaning over Wesley's chair, but Giles had never seen him get up from the floor.

Wesley pointed to a line at the bottom on the scroll. "Right here. This isn't part of the counter-spell apparently. More like a footnote, and traditionally, those are not coded. The ink is very faded, but these two words here translate as 'heavy disk'. I think that refers to the phase of the moon. It _could_ mean full moon, of course, or it could mean --"

"The phase before or after the full moon," Giles finished, removing his glasses and rubbing his eyes. "Oh good lord. Yes, of course, that's very possible."

"So is this good news or bad news?" Cordelia demanded.

"It could be either, or neither," Wesley replied. "It could still mean the full moon, which is forty-eight hours away, or it could mean the Waxing or the Waning Gibbous phases."

Buffy crossed her arms. "Pretend like we don't know what you just said and explain it to us."

"The day before or after the full moon," Angel supplied, frowning at the paper in front of Wesley. "When you look at it, it looks like a full moon, but it's not. Which means we may still be on the same deadline, or we may have gained a day or lost a day."

Cordelia huffed. "Why can't these scrolls ever say what they mean? It's like tenth grade Lit class all over again." As everyone stared at her, she said impatiently, "Oh come on. You show me one person who read Beowulf and knew what it was about."

That left everyone in silence until Wesley gave his head a sharp shake as if to clear it and Giles asked, "So you've finished the translation, Wesley?"

"Yes, just."

Willow patted him on the shoulder with a big smile. "Way to go, Wesley."

Wesley ducked his head. "I'm afraid that's only half the job done. It still needs to be decoded, and we're running out of time." He looked up at Giles. "Have you found anything helpful on Haach-mal? Any weaknesses in case we need to fight him?"

Giles indicated the piece of paper in front of him only half-filled with references he'd found to the demon. "No, and frankly, I don't take that as a good sign. We know very little about him and that means we don't know what we're up against."

"I think we're going to have to break cover," Angel said grimly. "We can't just sit here and wait for the cult to set up shop in Sunnydale. We need to know if they're here."

Buffy nodded. "I agree. I say I go shake Willy the Snitch and see if he knows anything." She shrugged. "Maybe going out there and spreading the word will make them show themselves."

Xander threw his covers aside and stood up. "And I'd like to help with that shaking. I like how Buffy bounces Willy off walls. It's very entertaining."

Giles sighed, replacing his glasses on his nose. He still hated the idea of tipping off the cult they were on to them, but he had to admit they were running out of options and it was time for desperate measures. "I think we need to work on a worst case scenario, which means we move the deadline up twenty-four hours. Wesley, do you think you'll be able to decode that counter-spell in time?" Even as he asked it he was kicking himself. Of course there was no way Wesley would know if he would have the decoding done by then, and he could see from the expression on Angel's face that the vampire didn't appreciate his utter stupidity.

The younger man shook his head. "I don't know," he said honestly, and he looked absolutely miserable at the confession. 

"Just do your best, Wes. That's all anyone can ask," Angel told him, resting a hand on his shoulder. "We're going to be working on Plan B." He turned to Buffy. "Can you be back by sundown? I'd like a turn out there."

Buffy shrugged. "Sure. Why should I have all the fun?" She waved at Xander, who was now holding a baseball bat and testing the weight of it. "Come on, Xander. Let's go visit our favorite snitch and see how he bounces."

 

The day passed in a blur of ever increasing tension. After obtaining no useful information from Willy, they visited other demon bars and checked out abandoned buildings where there had been demon activity in the past, but still returned empty handed. Then it was Angel's turn, and he returned so near sunrise that Wesley and Cordelia were openly fretting and his clothes were smoking by the time he dashed through the door. And they still had nothing.

The day of the worst case scenario deadline was cloudy and cool for southern California. It seemed to match the mood of everyone inside the Magic Box. Everyone, including Cordelia and Tara, had given up trying to reason with Wesley about taking some time to rest. As Cordelia told Angel, "All we're getting out of him are grunts." 

It was Willow who told them all they should knock it off and leave him alone. "It's like studying for the biggest test of your life. You can't think about anything else, and if you make him lie down he won't be able to rest anyhow. He'll just be worrying about the time he's losing. I say we just make him tea and stop nagging him. There'll be time enough to collapse when this is all over."

"Or when we're all sucked into a vortex and eaten by demons," Cordelia pointed out.

Willow smiled brightly. "See, that's the kind of positive thinking I like to hear. I've missed that since you left Sunnydale, Cordelia."

It was actually very sensible advice, and Giles was glad they took it. As difficult as it was to witness Wesley's further physical decline as he continued to push himself, they really had no choice. He was Plan A, and so far Plan B seemed to be nothing more than wishful thinking on their part. So they continued their research into Haach-mal, Wesley continued the intricate and time-consuming process of decoding the translation, and Angel paced the floor, waiting for Buffy and Xander to return so he could take his turn outside.

The sudden ringing of the phone on the counter made them all jump. Cordelia, who was closest, snatched it up. "Magic Box. What? Are you sure?" She held the receiver out to Giles. "Buffy thinks she found them."

Giles reached the counter in two strides, pressing the phone to his ear. "Buffy? You found them?" He listened while she quickly filled him in. She and Xander had widened their patrol area and stumbled across a number of cloaked figures gathering in a little-used park on the edge of Sunnydale. It would certainly be the ideal spot, giving them an unobstructed view of the moon, a necessity for the rite, and the markings Buffy described on their robes matched the symbols for Haach-mal. "We're on our way." He hung up and quickly explained the situation to the others as he chose a sword from the stash of weapons in a corner. When he turned around Angel was already brandishing his large broadsword, Cordelia was digging around behind the counter for something, and Wesley was pushing himself to his feet.

Instead of pointing out to the man he was in no condition to enter into a fight, Angel firmly pushed him back down into his chair and told him, "We need you to keep working on that counter-spell, Wes. You've just become Plan B."

As Angel turned for the door, Wesley snagged his coat sleeve. "Angel, remember some of them are human."

"Not planning on killing any humans unless they don't give me a choice," Angel told him evenly. 

"But Cordelia," he whispered anxiously. 

"I don't plan on killing any humans either," Cordelia told him cheerfully, hefting Xander's baseball bat in her hands. "But I can sure see to it they're limping out of there."

"For heaven's sake, be careful."

"I'll look out for her," Angel assured him, heading for the door. "You look after Willow and Tara."

"Yes, of course."

 

Wesley watched the door close behind Angel, Cordelia and Giles. Willow walked over and carefully locked it, then walked back and sat down beside him. "I'm sure they'll be fine," she told him with a reassuring smile. "They've got Buffy _and_ Angel. A Slayer and a Vampire With a Soul. Not to be sneezed at."

"I know. It's just..." He grimaced, smoothing out a non-existent wrinkle in the paper in front of him. 

"You're not used to being left behind," Tara said gently. 

"No," he agreed quietly, "I'm not." Angel, of course, went out alone whenever he pleased, but Cordelia only ever went with him when Wesley was along too, and Angel trusted him to look out for her. Of course the reverse was true as well; there were many times Wesley had been on the ground staring into the yellow eyes of a vampire only to have it dissolve into dust thanks to Cordelia seeing he was in trouble and running over with a stake. But of course, Willow was right, both Buffy and Angel would be there, and Xander and Giles. Surely that was enough people to keep an eye on Cordelia.

"Wesley, would you like some tea?"

Wesley came out of his thoughts and blinked at Willow. It was obvious from the tone of her voice and the worried look on her face that this wasn't the first time she'd asked him that question. The constant flow of caffeine in his system was giving him a headache, but it was doing the job of keeping him going when all he really wanted to do was put his head down and sleep, and besides, cutting off the caffeine at this point would probably give him an even bigger headache. "That would be lovely, thank you."

Willow started to get up, then paused. "I suppose you want the high octane?" she asked, indicating mild disapproval.

If it had been Cordelia, she would have simply put the caffeine-free teabag in his cup without asking, but Willow was such a soft touch he felt bad about giving her the pleading gaze that would have bounced off Cordelia. "It won't be for much longer," he said apologetically. "And with any luck, Angel and Buffy will be able to take care of the cult, and we won't have to worry about this translation at all."

"And then you can get some proper rest."

Wesley looked at Tara's somber face and gave her a smile. "We Watcher-trained types are a lot tougher than we look," he said dryly. "Although when this is over, I'll happily sleep for a week."

From the counter where she was making tea, Willow announced, "When this is all over, I think we should throw a big party. We can have it right here at the Magic Box. I'm sure Giles won't mind." She warmed to her subject, her face lighting up with eagerness. "And we can have food and music and we can all talk and catch up with Angel and Cordelia, and we can all get to know you better, Wesley."

Getting to know him had never been very high on the priority list of the Scoobies, but Wesley didn't point that out to Willow. Willow and Tara had been nothing but sweet and supportive of him since he arrived, and the rest of them had been cordial, so saw no reason to crush her enthusiasm. Besides, Tara was watching him with a hopeful expression on her face, and he found he was pretty much helpless against Tara's hope and Willow's enthusiasm. He'd have to close his eyes and block his ears in order to say 'no' to either one of them, and even then he wasn't convinced he could manage it. "That sounds very nice, Willow." He wasn't sure how nice Angel and Cordelia would find it, but if Willow had her heart set on a party, then he'd do his best to convince them they should all stay and try to make it a success.

They both beamed at him as Willow brought over his tea and sat it carefully by his elbow. "We weren't very nice to you when you were here before. I think we'd all kind of like to make up for that."

The last thing Wesley had expected was an apology or even an acknowledgement of the embarrassment that was his time in Sunnydale as Watcher, and he quickly looked back down at his translation. "There were...extenuating circumstances," he said carefully. "I was sent to replace Buffy's Watcher, and I understand now the deep bond that exists between Buffy and Mr. Giles. That wasn't something I fully appreciated then." 

"They're definitely tight," Willow agree, "but I doubt you expected open hostility or for no one to even give you a chance."

He was aware of Willow's sympathetic gaze on him, and he finally put down his pen with a little sigh. "No," he admitted finally, "I didn't. I thought the fact that the Council had sanctioned me as Buffy's Watcher was all the authority I needed. I realize now I could have handled things better."

"It sounds like everyone could have handled things better," Tara said softly. "Not just you."

Willow nodded firmly. "Equal blame all around. Buffy and Giles were both angry, but they shouldn't have taken it out on you. It wasn't your fault you were sent here to be her Watcher. So it wasn't you, Wesley. I don't think Buffy would have accepted anyone the Council sent to replace Giles."

Although Wesley had come to that conclusion himself much later, it did seem to lift an old weight from his shoulders to hear Willow say it. He nodded. "I agree. Still...there was Faith." He was proud he was able to say her name without flinching or without the flash of anger he had felt for so long after her visit to Los Angeles. "I badly mishandled that."

Willow looked at him with solemn eyes. "Faith was a lost cause before you got here," she told him. "I don't like to say that about anyone, but in her case, I think it's true. Maybe Angel could have gotten through to her back then, or maybe not. Maybe she had to go through everything she did until she reached the point where she was ready to admit what she'd done and accept she had to pay for it. We'll never know, but I don’t think you should beat yourself up over it."

Perhaps not, since Faith had beaten him up over it enough for both of them. Still, when he looked into Willow's sympathetic face and huge soft eyes, he remembered with a sharp pang that he had been ready to sacrifice this sweet girl at one point. He rubbed his eyes, wishing he could rub the memories away of his time here as Watcher as well. He really didn't look back on his time in Sunnydale with any fondness at all. "Willow, there's something I need to tell you, something you need to know about me. When you were held captive by the Mayor and he needed the Box of Gavrok for his ascension --"

"I know," she interrupted.

He looked sharply at her. "You know?"

"Buffy told me afterwards. Or rather, she ranted afterwards. I know you didn't think they should have traded the Box for me."

"Willow, I didn't _know_ you then." He shook his head at the sheer stupidity of that argument. "That's no excuse, I know. But I honestly believed that if we gave that Box to the Mayor we'd be condemning thousands of people to..." He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Who am I kidding? I told the rest of them we should come up with another plan, but I didn't do anything to come up with one myself. If it had been left to me, you would have died."

"Luckily there was another plan and it all worked out."

Wesley lowered his arms to the table and stared at her calm face. Tara was gripping her hand tightly, but there was nothing but serenity in Willow's eyes. "How can you...forgive me like that?"

"There is no forgiveness." He flinched at her words and pulled back, but she immediately leaned forward and grabbed his hand. "I meant, I never blamed you, Wesley, so there was nothing to forgive." She gave his hand a little squeeze. "But it sounds like maybe you haven't forgiven yourself."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat and said hoarsely, "I would make a different decision now, Willow. Or at the very least, I would have come up with another plan that didn't condemn you to death."

She smiled one of her genuine heart-breaking smiles. "I'm glad to hear it. But let's just hope there's no hostage-taking of -- Oh!" She stiffened suddenly and so did Tara.

"The alarm?" he asked immediately.

Willow and Tara both nodded. "That was fast," Willow said, still blinking a little. "They must have taken care of those cult members in a hurry."

He frowned. "No, they wouldn't have had time to get there and back yet."

"Maybe they forgot something?" Tara suggested. "And they're coming back to get it?"

Wesley looked at the door, quickly sifting through the possibilities in his mind. "Where's the back door?" he asked abruptly.

Willow's eyes went wide. "There's an exit in the basement."

"Go," he ordered, and slipped on his jacket with a grimace, then quickly gathered up the scroll and his notes and stuffed them into his pockets.

Willow and Tara were on their feet, but hesitating. Tara said fearfully, "You don't think --?"

"Go now," he said urgently, giving them a little push to get them moving. He followed as they ran for the door leading to the basement, pausing only to snatch a compact crossbow from Giles' stash of weapons in the corner before clattering down the steps after them. They were waiting for him by the basement door, eyes wide in pale faces. He touched them both gently on the shoulders. "We're just going out the back to be cautious," he explained, mustering what he hoped was a reassuring smile. 

"You think it's them, don't you?" Tara asked in a whisper.

"I think we can't take any chances. Here, let me go first, stay close behind." He slipped out the door and quietly climbed the steps leading up to the back of the shop, crossbow at the ready. He waited until Willow and Tara were standing beside him, then pointed to the side of the building. "Stay here," he whispered. "I'm going to have a look at the front." They nodded, standing huddled together, and he slipped around the side and silently made his way to the front of the shop. He cautiously peeked around the corner and felt his heart sink. Angel, Buffy, Giles and Cordelia had obviously taken Angel's more spacious car; Giles' car was still parked out front, and under the light of street lamps he could see two cloaked figured standing by the car, cutting off any escape by automobile he had hoped for. No doubt more cloaked figures were inside the shop by now. He quickly returned to Willow and Tara and explained the situation.

"You mean, it was a trick? To get everyone out of the shop?" Willow whispered. "Do you think the others are okay?"

With a vampire and Slayer in the group the others were probably a great deal more okay than the three of them were at the moment. "We need to head for the park where they went. It may have been a ruse, in which case they should be headed back here and hopefully we can intercept them. Or they're in trouble and we can lend a hand."

Both girls nodded, but Tara had her arms wrapped around herself, and Wesley could see she was shivering in the cool, night air. Whereas he and Willow both had long-sleeved sweaters on, she had apparently neglected to grab her cardigan when they left the shop in a hurry and her short-sleeved cotton blouse wasn't enough protection against the cool night. Ignoring the twinges in his back, he slipped off his jacket and draped it across her shoulders. Before she could protest, there was a crash from inside the shop, like someone had thrown something against a wall.

"Do you know the way to the park?" Wesley hissed. They both nodded immediately. "Then _run_."

He let Willow lead. As a lifelong resident of Sunnydale, she knew her way around and he trusted her to choose a direct yet circumspect route to the park, and he noted with approval that she had a stake grasped in her hand. He hated dragging these two around the Hellmouth at night with only himself and a crossbow standing between them and any vampires on the hunt, but he had no choice. He suspected the cult had set up a ruse to lure them out of the Magic Box to try to get the scroll, and if they'd been in the shop when the intruders had arrived, he doubted they would have survived the encounter. Now it was his responsibility to get these two young women to safety and find a way to finish decrypting the counter-spell. Best case scenario would be to get them to Angel and Buffy for protection; but they had a long way to go and a lot of Hellmouth in their path. 

Willow and Tara were moving at a quick pace, but when they looked back and saw he was struggling to keep up, they slowed their steps. "Keep going," he told them, gritting his teeth against the persistent pain in his back.

Tara gave Willow's arm a squeeze, then took a step back and slipped her arm through his. He wouldn't allow himself to lean on her, but he appreciated the support. "Do you think they're following us?" she asked in a low voice, looking around at the darkness surrounding them.

"I think we have to assume they can," he told her. "If some of the priests are half-demon then it's possible they may be able to track us in some way. Oh, Lord." He abruptly stopped in his tracks and quickly reached into the pocket of the jacket Tara was now wearing. The scroll wasn't anything manmade. It looked and felt a little like sheepskin, but Wesley knew the skin wasn't from any animal in this dimension. As he pulled it out into the night, he could see something he wouldn't have noticed indoors under the lighting of the Magic Box. It was glowing faintly with a bluish-white light. "This may be how they can track us," he said with a sick feeling in his stomach. "I should have thought of the possibility that they could somehow sense this as a threat to the demon they worship --"

"Giles didn't think of it either," Willow said immediately, "so it's not your fault, Wesley."

"Can't we just throw it away?" Tara asked, gesturing toward a storm drain as she looked around nervously. "Just throw it in the sewers, then they can't follow us."

"No, I can't take the chance."

"But you've already translated it," Willow reminded him.

"But what if I made a mistake? Or have to check a word or a line? This is the only copy we have. Until we know the counter-spell works we can't risk losing it."

Suddenly Tara grabbed his arm her fingers tightening painfully. "Wesley, look!"

Wesley quickly turned around and saw what she saw: he could make out dark forms in the distance and pairs of small glowing lights that he realized must be the eyes of the half-demons on their trail. There were far too many to fight, and he couldn't risk it in any event with Willow and Tara with him. He looked around desperately and pointed at what seemed to be a copse of trees in the distance. "What's that?"

"A park," Willow answered immediately. "Just mostly trees and walking paths."

"Head for it," he ordered. As they ran for the trees he was already trying to work out how he was going to get Willow and Tara to safety. He knew he had to separate himself and the scroll from them, but first he had to find someplace where they would be safe, not only from their pursuers, but from anything else out hunting that night. He got the solution as soon as they entered the park and he saw the substantial, old trees with their gnarled branches and plentiful cover. He stopped under one particularly large tree with low branches and held the young women back. "Can you climb?"

Willow looked up at the tree and seemed to understand his plan immediately. "Yes. Xander and I used to climb trees all the time when we were kids." Tara was looking uncertainly at the upper branches and Willow said reassuringly, "Don't worry. I'll help you."

"But, what if they can climb trees too?" Tara asked, looking back over her shoulder.

"They'll be following the scroll."

They both looked at him sharply. "We're not leaving you behind," Willow said firmly.

"You're not leaving me," he corrected gently. "Actually I'll be leaving you, and I'm very sorry for that, but I don't know of any other way." He continued on, ignoring their objections. "Climb as high as you can. Willow, I know you have a stake. Tara?" Wordlessly, she pulled a bottle of holy water out of a side pocket in her skirt. "Well done. Climb high and be very still. The safest thing would be to wait until sunrise, but the others need to know what happened."

"We'll get back to the Magic Box," Willow promised.

"But be careful. Don't go inside unless you know the others are there and it's safe. Tara, my translation is in the pocket of my jacket. Make sure Mr. Giles gets it. The counter-spell seems to be done in a rhyming couplet, and he may be able to continue the decoding himself." He held out his cupped hands to give Willow a leg up. "Now, up you go."

But instead of climbing into the tree, both Willow and Tara threw their arms around him and gave hugs so fierce they nearly knocked him over. "Be careful," Tara whispered. "Be safe."

"I shall," he said, gently returning their embraces. "Now, we need to be quick." 

As Willow put a foot into his cupped hands, she looked up at him. "You're only doing this to keep us safe."

"I'm doing this because it's what needs to be done. You're a resourceful girl, Willow. I trust you to get yourself and Tara back to the others safely."

"And I trust you to get yourself back safely," she said with a fierceness he'd never heard from her before. Then she was pulling herself up onto the lowest branch and holding a hand down for Tara.

He stood under the tree and watched anxiously until they were both out of sight, only breathing again when he could see or hear nothing of them. Then he heard footsteps and rustling of bushes on the path behind him and took off at a run.

 

Willow had been right about the park. It was small. Before he realized he'd reached the end of the park, he was through the trees and out on the streets of Sunnydale. At least out here he had streetlights to help him see, and his pursuers would soon be leaving Willow and Tara behind. He chose a direction at random and doggedly pushed on, his limp becoming more pronounced as the pain in his back increased and his muscles, not yet healed from being thrown in the explosion at the office, began aching with a vengeance. He doubted his physical therapist had this kind of exercise in mind when he prescribed gentle stretching and walking at a slow, steady pace. 

The streets of Sunnydale were deserted, at least in this part of town and there seemed to be more businesses, closed for the night, than residences. That was just as well. He wouldn't have wanted to cross paths with any innocents while he was being pursued and inadvertently put them in danger. If he could just find a public phone, he could pause long enough to call Angel's cell phone, which Buffy still had, and -- The sound of a choked off scream nearby made him stop suddenly in his tracks, then veer off in the direction of the sound, his crossbow gripped tightly in his hands. He'd heard enough screams like that to know what it meant. He may be too late, but if there was a chance he could save someone from a vampire attack, he had to try. 

He arrived at the scene of the attack just as the body of the victim slid lifelessly to the ground. As the female vampire spun around at the sound of his approach, he coolly pulled the trigger of his crossbow and sent the shaft into the heart of the demon. The dust was still settling as he crouched carefully by the body of the victim and felt for a pulse. After a moment he got slowly to his feet and looked regretfully down at the middle-aged man in a business suit who had been alive only moments before. He knew intellectually he wasn't to blame for not being in time to save the man, but it made him want to smash something for being seconds too late. So caught up was he in his anger and guilt that it took him several moments before he realized the car beside him was still idling, the driver's door hanging open. He slowly walked around to the driver's side, noted the out of state plates, and realized the vampire must have used some ruse to cause the unwary stranger to stop and think he was rendering assistance. Or picking up a prostitute, Wesley amended, remembering how the female was dressed. Either way, it wasn't something anyone who was familiar with Sunnydale would have done.

The sound of running footsteps brought him around in time to see his pursuers, eyes again shining in the dark like cats' eyes, heading for him like filings to a magnet. Smiling grimly, he eased himself into the driver's side of the car and put it into gear. "Right," he murmured. "Let's see how you lot enjoy a good marathon, shall we?" Watching the rear view mirror he let them get close enough to get a good look at him, then he floored the accelerator and peeled away from the curb with a very satisfying squeal of tires. He should be able to outrun them easily, lead them far away from Tara and Willow, and find a public phone to call Angel. Finally. A plan.

 

Angel stood at the table where Wesley had worked and looked bleakly around at the smashed crockery and books littered over the floor of the Magic Box. The others were searching the store, but he had known as soon as he opened the door that no one was here. Over two hundred years of survival skills at his beck and call, and he had been stupid enough to fall for the ruse that left Wesley, Willow and Tara unprotected and in possession of the one thing that could foil the plans of the priests who planned to bring the demon Haach-mal into their dimension. Why didn't he just put out the welcome mat and leave the door open for them? Of _course_ they would try to get their hands on the counter-spell. Cordelia was standing over by the counter, staring at the tea supplies that had been swept onto the floor, her knuckles white where she was gripping the baseball bat. Giles and Buffy both burst back into the store from their search of the building at the same time Xander pounded up the steps from the basement. "The basement door's wide open."

"It was locked when we left," Buffy said immediately. She turned sharply to Angel. "Do you think they got out that way?"

Instead of answering her directly, Angel indicated the table. "The scroll's missing, and all of Wesley's notes." He could practically write the script for what happened here while they were off chasing their tails. Wesley would have done everything in his power to keep that counter spell from getting into the hands of those priests. It was the only thing that had a chance to keeping that vortex closed and Haach-mal out of their dimension, and he knew it.

"Okay, so the bad guys broke in and grabbed the scroll," Xander said, looking from Buffy to Angel. "That's bad, but if they got what they wanted, where are Willow, Tara and Wesley?"

Angel looked over at Giles who was watching him with a knowing look on his face; Giles had obviously written the same script. He gave Angel a brief nod of acknowledgement, then said quietly, "I don't think they got the scroll."

Buffy asked sharply, "What do you mean?"

"He means," Angel said evenly, "Wesley, Willow and Tara would have had warning they were coming. I think they got out through the basement, but --"

"But Wesley took the scroll with him?" Xander interrupted incredulously. "That's what you're saying, isn't it? And those things went after them because he has what they want. And he's dragged Willow and Tara along with him and put their lives in danger --"

"Oh please." Cordelia slammed the bat down onto the counter. "This is all about Willow again, isn't it? You've never forgiven Wesley for the time when the Mayor had her, and he thought there could be a better plan to get her back than risking the thousands of lives you were so happy to sacrifice."

Xander rounded on her. "And what a surprise that you're taking his side again. Wesley was supposed to take care of Willow and Tara." He jabbed a finger in Cordelia's direction. "They were his responsibility, and if anything has happened to them because of him --"

"Stop it, both of you." Giles' sharp voice cracked like a whip across the store, and while Xander and Cordelia continued to glare at each other, neither was unwise enough to continue the argument. "The important thing now is to find all three of them. If they have that scroll and the Haach-mal worshippers are on their trail, they're in grave danger."

Angel strode across the room to the basement door. "I'll try to pick up their trail."

Buffy was at his heels. "I'm with you."

Cordelia snatched the baseball bat back up. "Me too."

Xander hefted the axe in his hand and followed. "Like you're leaving me behind."

"Someone should stay behind in case they come back," Giles protested. "Cordelia, it might be better if you stayed here."

Cordelia didn't look at him as she marched by. "Giles, buy a clue."

"Someone should be here in case they --"

"We're back."

The sound of Willow's soft voice stopped everyone in their tracks. Everyone spun around to find Willow and Tara standing the doorway, tightly grasping hands. There were leaves and twigs stuck in Willow's hair, and Tara's face was smudged and she was huddled inside Wesley's jacket. Buffy practically flew across the room, gathering first Willow and then Tara into a fierce hug. "Thank god you guys are okay. What _happened_?"

"And where's Wesley?" Angel asked urgently, striding over and looking past them in hopes of seeing Wesley trailing behind.

"The priests came," Willow explained breathlessly. "Wesley got us out. He figured out they could follow the scroll, so he hid us and took the scroll and led them away. He told us to try to make it back here."

"You've got to find him," Tara pleaded. "He's still out there, and they're after him." She turned to Willow, tears shining in her eyes. "We shouldn't have left him. He's all alone out there."

"No, you all did exactly the right thing," Angel told her. "Wesley's smart; he'll figure out a way to stay ahead of them. Where did you see him last?"

Willow quickly told them about the small park where they had hidden, and Buffy nodded sharply. "I know it. Let's go."

When Willow and Tara made a move to go back out the door, Giles gently but firmly laid a hand on their shoulders and held them back. "No you don't. Wesley risked his life to keep you two safe, and you're staying right here."

Angel took Cordelia's elbow and pulled her aside. "Cordy, I want you to stay here with Willow and Tara." When she opened her mouth to protest, he pressed on. "Wesley could make his way back here, and he could be hurt or he could be in trouble. I need you here. Buffy still has my cell phone, so call us if he gets back." He knew he had her the moment he mentioned Wesley could be hurt, although the look in her eyes told him she knew he'd done it deliberately.

"Find him," was all she said.

He touched her briefly on the shoulder. "I will," he promised, and turned and strode out of the Magic Box, the others following close behind.

 

Wesley sighed with relief when he spotted the old fashioned phone booth on the street corner ahead. Taking the car and leading his pursuers on a merry chase had been a good plan, a solid plan, one that had worked for as long as the car kept running. It was just unfortunate that the owner of the car had apparently been running on fumes, and the car had sputtered to a stop a short time before when the tank finally ran dry. During his short stint as Watcher in Sunnydale he really hadn't got to know the town well. No one had offered to show him around, and he'd spent his time doing research and writing reports to the Council and just generally not getting out at all. He had no idea what part of town he was in by now or how close he might be to the Magic Box. He'd been too intent on taking random turns and hopefully tiring his pursuers, and he'd completely lost any sense of direction. When the car finally stopped he found himself in what appeared to be an area of warehouses, some of which looked derelict. Knowing how much vampires liked setting up nests in abandoned buildings, Wesley walked warily but quickly toward the phone booth, crossbow at the ready, and hoped this phone was working. The last two he'd tried had been vandalized.

He pushed the door open and slipped inside, sighing with relief when he saw this phone seemed to have all its working parts. A working phone meant Angel, and that meant reinforcements. If he could just continue to evade the priests on the trail of the scroll and avoid any hunting vampires, he should soon be back at the Magic Box along with, please God, Willow and Tara and everyone else. He set his crossbow down by his feet and fumbled in his pocket for coins. He only had enough change for one phone call and it seemed to take him forever to feed the coins into the proper slots, and then clumsily dial Angel's cell phone number with fingers that were stiff from cold and cramped from gripping his crossbow. He listened impatiently to the phone ringing on the other end, hoping Buffy hadn't lost the damned phone in a graveyard somewhere. For a moment he imagined the cell phone lying near the torn-up ground of a fresh grave, ringing in an empty graveyard. The sudden sound of Angel's anxious voice in his ear actually made him jump.

"Wesley? Is that you?"

"Angel?" He'd felt very alone out here all night, and just the sound of Angel's voice made him sag a little with relief. He was cold, he was tired beyond all imagination, his head was pounding to the point that even the soft lights of the street lamps were almost too much for him to bear, and he really wanted to stop being prey. "Oh thank god. I was afraid --"

"Wes, are you all right? Where are you?"

"Yes, yes, I'm fine. But Willow and Tara --"

"They're fine. They're back at the Magic Box. Wesley, _where are you_?"

"I'm afraid I'm in a rather bad section of town," he said apologetically, looking around uneasily.

He heard a strangled sound, then Angel's painfully patient voice, "Wesley, a street name, a landmark, a name on a building, _anything_."

Wesley peered out through the glass to the street sign on the corner and rubbed his eyes to bring it into focus. "Sheraton. The sign for the sidestreet is broken off, but there are a number of rather derelict warehouses around. I'm afraid there aren't any signs on the buildings." He heard some muffled conversation and the sound of tires squealing, and then Angel was back on the line.

"Wes, Buffy says that's an area that can be...kind of dangerous. So you need to stay right where you are, and we're on our way. Don't worry, okay? We're on our way." Wesley decided there was not much more terrifying than Angel trying to do casual and reassuring and failing miserably. He honestly would have preferred it if Angel had just told him he was standing on the welcome mat of Vampire Central and been done with it. There was the sound of more squealing tires and some muffled shouts. "Look, I'm going to turn you over to Giles now. You talk to him and stay on the line."

There was silence for a few moments and then Giles' voice. "Wesley?"

"Mr. Giles. Are Willow and Tara really all right?"

"They're fine, Wesley."

He allowed himself to lean against the glass of the booth, almost too tired to stay on his feet. "Thank god," he breathed. "I was afraid Angel was just telling me that..."

"No," Giles said immediately. "They're fine. They're back at the Magic Box with Cordelia. That was quick thinking to hide them and draw away the priests, Wesley." Giles managed a forced laugh and said lightly, "Shades of Charles the Second and the oak tree legend."

Resting his head against the cool glass, Wesley let his eyes slide shut and let Giles' voice wash over him. "Couldn't let anything happen to them," he mumbled. "The scroll. They can track the scroll. But I had to keep it because I'm not quite finished the decoding, and if I made a mistake in the translation, we would need it."

"Quite right," Giles assured him. Then he asked carefully, "Wesley, you don't see any of those priests, do you? Are they nearby?"

"I don't think so," he said tiredly, blinking through the dirty glass of the phone booth into the night. "But I'm sure they'll be along eventually."

"Well, not to worry," Giles said bracingly. "Just keep your head down, and we'll be right along, that's the spirit." 

Wesley winced and huddled a little deeper into the booth. If even Giles was worried about him, giving him the old keep-your-chin-up-that's-a-good-lad speech, then he really was in a dangerous part of town. He had to concentrate to pick up what Giles was saying next.

"Wesley, how on earth did you get to where you are? You're miles away from that park where Willow and Tara last saw you. You're on the other side of town, in fact."

"Found a car," he retorted drowsily. "But I was too late to save the owner."

"You found a car? Well, that would explain it. Not to worry, Wesley. We're moving quite quickly, and we'll be there very shortly. Just keep talking to me. Wesley!"

Giles' sharp voice cut through his lethargy, and he realized he was on the verge of falling asleep standing up. "I'm here," he replied quickly. He blinked his eyes open and straightened. "Oh."

"What's wrong?" Giles asked immediately.

Before he could answer Angel's sharp voice on the phone. "Wesley? What is it? What's going on?"

But Wesley's overtired brain refused to send the appropriate words to his mouth. He knew what he was seeing was wrong, but he couldn't process why. There was a pretty girl of perhaps sixteen or seventeen standing outside the phone booth smiling at him through the dirty glass. She tilted her head as if studying him, and he tried to push himself against the opposite side of the phone booth.

"Angel," he whispered. "Hurry."

The glass shattered as she smashed it with her fist. Wesley registered the sting of cuts on his face from flying pieces of glass, and then a strong hand gripped his throat and squeezed.

"Mine."

 

"Wesley! Wes, what's going on?" Angel heard the sound of breaking glass, muffled sounds, then nothing. He shoved the phone at Buffy who was riding shotgun, and took a turn with screaming tires. "Keep trying," he ground out. "Something happened."

He heard Giles and Xander in the back seat both demanding to know what happened, and Buffy trying repeatedly to get an answer from Wesley, and tuned them all out, concentrating on driving as fast as he could across town. This is what happened when you worked with humans, he thought, anger and fear filling him in equal measure. They got themselves kidnapped and tortured; they got themselves blown up in buildings; they ended up in mental wards as a bombardment of visions drove them crazy. It would be so much simpler, and the chance for heartbreak so much less, if he just went back to shunning humans and worked on his own. But even as those thoughts raced through his mind he knew he could never do that again. Cordelia and Wesley were too important to him. They were family to him now, people to be protected, cared for, and fed when needed or when he just felt like cooking. Wesley was on the other end of that phone somewhere, and he was going to find him, kill whatever was threatening him, and take him safely back to Los Angeles. He pressed the accelerator down further. And nothing better get in his way. 

 

When Wesley opened his eyes it took him a few moments of blinking to realize it was smoke that was making everything blurry. It drifted lazily like fog around him, apparently the result of many people smoking in a confined area. He was standing up, in a manner of speaking, and again it took his fuzzy brain a good few seconds to realize the reason for that was because his hands were bound together behind him and he was tied to some sort of pillar, and he realized this must be one of the old abandoned buildings he'd seen. His throat hurt and he remembered being choked unconscious by... A pretty, young face swam into view out of the smoke and he flinched, knocking his head back into the pillar behind him. 

"Mmm, you're a pretty one. Much prettier than the last one."

"Do you think he'll last any longer than the last one, Chrissie?" a male voice asked. A young man in a polo shirt and chinos strolled over to join her, took a drag on his cigarette and blew it in Wesley's face. "He doesn't really look like he can go the distance."

Other forms began moving around and Wesley began picking out individual faces in the dimness. They were all young and attractive and well dressed. And they were all vampires. A nest of upscale vampires. He'd say it was ironic, except there was nothing ironic about it. It was quite simply terrifying. 

"We'll have to see, won't we?" Chrissie answered, trailing a finger down the side of his face, and then licking the blood from it. He could feel the sting of glass cuts over his face, and her action brought back a memory of another young girl who had been fascinated by the cuts and bruises on his face. "I was kind of disappointed in the last one." She turned her head and looked to the side. Wesley's followed her gaze and saw a crumpled still figure in the corner. "All he ever really did was scream."

"I liked it when he screamed." Another female pushed her way through the gathering crowd, her voice thick with a southern accent. "Going to share this one, Chrissie?"

Chrissie gave her a casual shove that sent her reeling. "Find your own pretty boy, Marcia. You know the rules: I found him. This one's mine."

"Bitch," Marcia said sulkily and made her way unsteadily toward the door.

"That's me." Chrissie leaned in to Wesley and slowly ran her tongue up the side of his face. "I'm going to keep you around for a while," she whispered. "Wanna hear you scream."

That completed the circle. Suddenly Wesley was tied to a chair while Faith held a home-made blow torch to his face. Hours of being beaten and cut and taunted while he was helpless. Then something snapped into place and he was tied to a pillar while a vampire whispered promises of torture and pain. He couldn't go through that again. How many times was he supposed to be expected to go through being tied up and tortured for hours on end? He wanted to vomit or hyperventilate or just panic and scream for help. But he couldn't do any of those things. He stared at her sweet, heart-shaped face, afraid to move, afraid to breathe, and told himself the same thing he told himself when he was in Faith's hands: he only had to hang on for a little while, and Angel would find him. He had to believe that, just like he had to believe he wouldn't be left here for days to be tortured and then killed and dumped into a corner like the last person Chrissie had taken. 

"What's the matter, sugar? Cat got your tongue?" Chrissie grabbed a handful of his hair. "Let's find out, shall we?" Then her mouth was crushed against his and her tongue forced between his lips. He tried to wrench his mouth away, but she held his head still. He knew his best chance of survival was to play for time, to simply go along with it and not invite any retaliation, so after his initial struggle he forced himself to remain still and as disconnected as possible as she ravaged his mouth. Just as she was pulling away she bit down hard and he tried to flinch away from the pain, but she clamped both hands around his head and held him still as she sucked blood from his cut lip.

Finally pulling back, she licked her lips. "Nope, still got his tongue." Then she looked over at her audience and grinned. "For now."

As the others laughed, a young male made his way to the front carrying Wesley's crossbow. "Look what he had on him." He held out the weapon to Chrissie. "Thinks he's a Slayer."

Chrissie accepted the crossbow, casually loaded a bolt, and turned to him. "That right? You think you're a Slayer? You hunt our kind down with this and kill us?"

There really didn't seem to be any way to answer that question that wouldn't end in pain for him, so Wesley remained silent, watching her warily as she kept the crossbow aimed at him and moved it around in a way too deliberate to be casual.

"Don't you know these things can hurt? Why, you could put an eye out with one of these." She lifted the weapon, and he couldn't help himself: he squeezed his eyes shut. He didn't think anyone could blame him for not wanting to watch a crossbow bolt flying toward his eye. But she just laughed. "Oh, I'd never mess up that pretty face. Not yet anyway. Not when I have so many other plans for it." It happened so fast he never had time to open his eyes. He heard the sound of the trigger, the whish of the bolt leaving the bow, and then something slammed into his left leg above his knee. His eyes flew open and he looked down in shock at the bolt protruding from his leg. It wasn't until then that the pain struck, and he choked down a strangled cry. "Now you see, I told you those things hurt."

Wave upon wave of pain streaked up his leg, and through his tear-blurred eyes he saw Chrissie reach for another bolt and load the bow. "Let's try for a matching set, shall we?" She raised the weapon. "Ready, set --"

She never reached go. Somewhere in the distance Wesley heard wood splintering and people shouting. And then Chrissie was yanked away, there was an explosion of dust, and Angel was in front of him. He was in full game face and he planted himself in front of Wesley, disposing of vampires with frightening ferocity. Around Angel's broad form, Wesley could see Giles, swinging a sword with the same flair and grace he'd shown when he saved Wesley from Balthazar, Buffy dusting vampires with the kind of focused efficiency that was awe-inspiring, and Xander wielding an axe with surprising ease and enthusiasm. Even the fearsome burning in his leg was no match for the wave of relief he felt at the sight of Angel standing in front of him to protect him from whatever might come his way. Faith wouldn't be able to hurt him any more. No, that wasn't right. Not Faith. Someone else. The taste of fear was so familiar, the feeling of helplessness, the look of delight on the face of a pretty young girl as she caused pain. So very like Faith. But not Faith. Then it just got all too confusing between the pain and his exhaustion and he closed his eyes and stopped thinking.

 

Giles didn't have much time to look around as he set about dusting vampires, but when they had stormed in following Angel's door-splitting entrance, he did catch a glimpse of Wesley tied to a post. There was blood on his face and a crossbow bolt embedded in one leg, but he was looking around dazedly, so at least he was alive, which was frankly more than Giles had expected despite the manic way Angel had driven to get here in time. As things were, it probably would have been too late if not for Angel and his vampire senses that led them to this building. If it had been just Buffy, Xander and himself, they would have had to do a building-by-building sweep to find Wesley and precious minutes would have been lost. Buffy and Angel were fighting with a rhythm all their own, Buffy with single-minded intensity and Angel with the kind of rage that made him seem larger than life. Giles and Xander were catching the strays, making sure no one escaped. This was a large nest, and he found himself grateful that Buffy hadn't stumbled into this one alone on one of her patrols. 

And then suddenly the chaos was over and there was only lingering dust in the air and silence. 

"Wes!" Angel was bracing Wesley so he wasn't sagging against the ropes binding his arms, and Buffy was behind Wesley with a dagger, slicing through the ropes, her lips set in a grim line. When Wesley was freed, Angel caught him easily and carefully lowered him to the floor. "Easy, easy, I've got you."

Xander wordlessly took off his jacket and balled it up, placing it on the floor for Wesley to use as a pillow. Angel gave him a brief nod of thanks, but his whole attention was focused on Wesley as he gently laid him down and straightened his limbs, being particularly careful with his injured leg.

"We can't take that bolt out," Giles told him quietly.

"I know. We need to get him to a hospital."

The sound of Angel's voice seemed to rouse Wesley and he murmured, "No hospital."

"Wes, we need to get your leg taken care of."

"Just drop me off at my flat," Wesley mumbled fretfully. "Can take care of myself."

Xander frowned. "What's he talking about?"

Angel was checking the cuts on his face, but Giles could see they were all thankfully minor, although one was very close to his left eye. "I don't think he knows where he is." Angel gently tapped Wesley's cheek. "Hey, Wes. Wes, come on, look at me."

Wesley obediently blinked his eyes open. "Angel." He let out a little sigh. "She's a sick, sick girl." Then he lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper and clumsily snagged the sleeve of Angel's coat. "But she didn't hear me scream."

Angel started violently, and Buffy gave him a sharp look. "What's he talking about?" she demanded.

Angel swallowed and gently unloosened Wesley fingers from his coat sleeve, but kept them covered with his own. "He's confused. This must have brought back...memories."

Xander looked as confused as Wesley seemed to be. "He has memories of being tortured?" Then he stiffened and Giles heard him whisper, "Damn."

Something stirred in the back of Giles' memory, an off-handed comment Buffy had made when she returned from Los Angeles after tracking Faith there. Her remark about Wesley wearing bruises instead of a suit this season didn't seem to connect to anything except the dangerous line of work he was in. Until now. He saw Buffy's face tighten as she apparently made the same connection he did, but he quickly stepped in to stop the outburst he saw coming. "Now isn't the time or the place," he said firmly. "We need to get Wesley to medical attention and secure the scroll. The priests are undoubtedly still on its trail."

"Scroll." Wesley's mind seem to be grabbing key words at random and latching onto them. "They can track the scroll."

"Yes, we know, Wesley." Giles stepped around so he was in Wesley's line of sight, and smiled reassuringly. "You told us. And you kept it safe."

"Where is it, Wes?" Angel asked quietly. "Your pocket?"

Wesley nodded and tried to move, but Buffy stopped him with a hand on his chest. "I've got it." She slipped her small hand inside his pocket and pulled out the rolled up scroll. "And I've got an idea."

"You can't fight them, Buffy," Wesley said anxiously. "There are too many of them."

"Don't plan to fight them, Wesley. But your little tour around town gave me an idea." She grinned up at Giles. "I thought I'd lead them around by the nose a bit and introduce them to a new group of friends to play with. With any luck, we'll kill two birds with one...scroll."

As usual, it took Giles a moment to catch up with her, but then he nodded. It was risky, and like many of Buffy's plans a bit off the wall, but it just might work. If Buffy could lead the priests into a nest of vampires, fairly easy to do in Sunnydale, perhaps they'd spend the rest of the night killing each other off. 

As Buffy began to get to her feet, Wesley said, "Be careful." She looked at him in surprise, but he looked very young and earnest and he was obviously making a great effort to stay conscious and tell her something he felt was important. "I never told you that when I was here before. I should have. I don't think I really thought of you as...well, as anything but the Slayer."

Buffy glanced up at Giles, and he saw the regret in her eyes, but when she looked back down at Wesley she had a smile for him as she gently patted his hand. "Well, I don't think I ever really gave you reason to think of me as a human being. Now you just relax for a while and let someone else carry this for you, okay? You've done your part." Before she stood she looked at Angel and mouthed, 'Get him to a hospital.' Then she was on her feet and out the door into the Sunnydale night.

Wesley was tugging agitatedly at Angel's hand to get his attention. "Angel, we have to find Willow and Tara. I had to leave them. We have to get them."

"Wes, they're safe," Angel soothed.

Xander crouched down by Wesley's side and gave the man the first smile Giles had ever seen him give Wesley. "It's okay, Wesley. You hid them and led the bad guys away. They're fine. You did good."

"I did?" Wesley looked bewildered by the praise and achingly young as he gazed at Xander and no doubt tried to figure out who this young man was who looked like Xander.

"You sure did. Well, except for the whole getting yourself shot with an arrow thing. But, hey, that could happen to anyone."

Giles could see Wesley's fingers go lax in Angel's hand as his eyes drifted shut and he sighed, "Tell that to Cordelia."

 

Their anxious little group filled one of the Sunnydale Hospital waiting rooms. Giles took himself off to a corner of the room and pulled some chairs around to serve as a desk as he laid out Wesley's translation and decoding notes. At least the danger of the vortex opening was over for tonight. It was well into the night and closing in on dawn, so the time for the ritual was past. That meant they had at least another twenty-four hours to finish the counter-spell. He saw with approval that although no longer a Watcher, Wesley still held to his Watcher training. He had meticulously notated each line as he had decoded it, allowing Giles to follow the complex pattern he'd discovered and continue the work Wesley had begun. As he completed laying out Wesley's notes, he glanced around the small room. Willow and Tara were huddled together on the sofa, clasping hands, looking tense and worried; Cordelia was sitting in a corner chair by a lamp, an old magazine in her hands, although Giles doubted she had yet to turn a page, and while her face was a careful blank, her left leg was jiggling nervously and she kept darting glances at the clock; Xander was sprawled in another chair trying to catch some sleep; and Angel was prowling restlessly around the room, stopping at intervals to stare out the window into the night, his expression grim as he watched the night slip away. Giles suspected that along with worry about his young friend who was undergoing surgery to have an arrow removed from his leg, Angel was also worried about Buffy. While Giles was concerned about Buffy, he did know she could take care of herself. He was actually more concerned for a young man who had only just got out of hospital in Los Angeles after being in an exploding building and was now in another hospital after being captured by a group of vampires. Wesley had been so tireless in his efforts to translate the counter-spell, so unfailingly polite to everyone, and so dismissive of what Giles realized now must have been acute discomfort, that he'd found himself forgetting that Wesley was still recovering from a near fatal accident. It would explain his disorientation on the way to the hospital and the way he kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Giles frowned in annoyance as Angel once again swept past, the resulting disturbance of air fluttering the papers he'd just straightened.

"Oh, for heaven's sake, Angel, do sit down," he said testily.

Angel stopped in his tracks and hunched his shoulders. "Sorry," he muttered. "It's just...it's going to be dawn soon."

"And you need to get back to the Magic Box," he said, his tone softening in understanding. "Don't worry, we'll remain here with Wesley. We won't leave him here alone."

"He won't be alone," Cordelia announced, laying her magazine on the small table with great precision. "I'll stay here with him, so you can all leave."

There was something a little too calm in Cordelia's crisp tone that made Giles look at her sharply and prompted an uneasy, "Cordelia..." from Angel. 

"No," she said sharply, folding her arms and giving Angel a warning look. "I'm getting really tired of people who couldn't even say a kind word to Wesley the first time he was here, suddenly wanting to make him tea and pretending to be so concerned about him."

"I assure you, we're not pretending," Giles told her firmly, hoping to cut off this line of discussion before it went any further. 

But Cordelia wouldn't be deterred. "Really? What's so different from the first time he was in Sunnydale then? He's still the same Wesley. Still the same annoying guy who knows too much, is too skinny and occasionally trips over his own shoelaces. But I don't remember any of you trying to make him feel welcome or inviting him over for dinner or showing him around town, or doing anything except make things as hard as possible for him. In fact, you did everything in your power to make sure he knew he wasn't welcome. I wonder how any of you would have liked to be treated like that." Xander was awake now and watching her warily. Willow looked absolutely stricken by her words, and Tara had slipped an arm around her shoulders. For himself, Giles felt his conscience give him a sudden, painful jab. Since Wesley had left Sunnydale, he had done a good job of forgetting the man had ever been there, hadn't thought of him at all really until he'd heard he was in Los Angeles with Angel and Cordelia; and then he'd promptly dismissed him from his mind until he needed his help. He certainly hadn't spent any time thinking about how he had treated the man when he was here. At the time he'd been angry and hurt by the Council's actions and his dismissal as Buffy's Watcher, and when Wesley had shown up, fresh from the Academy, young and untested, he could admit now that he had acted shamefully. Wesley may have been pompous and a bit overbearing, but after seeing him over the last few days Giles realized Cordelia was right: he was the same Wesley. He suspected the difference was that in Los Angeles he had met people who treated him kindly, supported him, encouraged him and brought out the best in him. Perhaps if he had done even a tenth of that, things would have been more pleasant for all of them during Wesley's stay and he wouldn't be feeling like such a bastard now. Cordelia got to her feet, put her hands on her hips, and glared at them all. "Well, Wesley has friends now, people who really do care about him. And he doesn’t need a bunch of losers-come-lately to pretend that they give a crap about him. So you can all just -- just --"

It was Angel who realized first what was happening, and he was across the room in two strides, gathering her in against his chest as she faltered. "It's okay, Cordy," Giles heard him murmur. "Wesley's going to be all right. I promise."

"How does someone get shot by a vampire?" she demanded tearfully, giving Angel a thump on the chest.

Angel gave a small grin as he rubbed her back soothingly. "Well, you know Wesley."

"Yes, I do." Cordelia pulled away from him and wiped the corner of one eye and once again firming her voice. "And I know the faces he'll be looking for when he wakes up aren't any of these." She waved her hand imperiously. "So you can all leave now."

There was a long, awkward silence, broken when Giles cleared his throat. "I can't speak for anyone else, of course, but I intend to stay. I'm going to try to work on finishing Wesley's deciphering, and I may have to consult with him." Seeing Cordelia's lips firm in irritation, he added gently, "Besides which, I would like to be here when Wesley comes out of surgery. I realize my face is not one he will be looking for, but I would like to be here nevertheless."

"We would too." Willow spoke up for the first time from her position on the couch. "Cordelia, I know it wasn't a happy time when Wesley was here before, but this is now. He didn't have to come back, but he did because we needed his help. He was hurt, but he came anyway." She looked at Tara. "And he risked his life to save ours. He didn't have to do that either, but he did." Suddenly she straightened her shoulders and said firmly, "And you're not chasing us away. We want to be here, darn it, and we're staying."

Tara tightened her arm around Willow's shoulder and gave a determined nod. "What she said."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere." Xander made a show of stretching out his legs and folding his hands over his stomach, making himself comfortable. "Kinda like to have my face there when Wesley wakes up too."

From her expression Cordelia was about to say something scathing to Xander regarding his face when the door burst open and Buffy strode in. "How's Wesley?" she demanded without preamble.

"Still in surgery," Angel answered. "Are you okay?"

"Don't I look okay?" Buffy walked over and handed the scroll to Giles. "Found a nice, playful bunch of new friends for our guys to play with. I think they'll be playing for some time."

"Well done."

"I thought so." Then Buffy turned away, grabbed Angel by the arm and dragged him to a corner of the room. "We need to talk."

It was a small room, and no conversation was going to be entirely private, but Giles returned to his examination of Wesley's notes and everyone else, except Cordelia who was making no pretense of not listening, at least made an effort to turn their attention elsewhere. But no good intentions in the world could have prevented them from hearing what Buffy said because she made no attempt to keep her voice low.

"I want to know what happened between Faith and Wesley."

Those words sent a shock like an electric current running through the room. Everyone froze, except Cordelia, who said in a brittle tone, "She tortured him," and walked back to her seat.

There was a collective gasp in the room. "Cordelia," Angel reproved in a hiss.

"What? There's a pretty word for what she did to him? She knocked me out, kidnapped Wesley, and tortured him for hours. That's what happened between Faith and Wesley." Cordelia gave Buffy a hard look. "And I'm warning you right now, don't you dare mention Faith's name to Wesley, or Slayer or not, I'll kick your ass."

"Good lord." Giles automatically took his glasses off and began cleaning them, too stunned to do anything else at the moment.

Buffy was looking up at Angel, the lines of her body tense. "So let me get this straight. Faith kidnaps your friend and tortures him, and we won't even go into everything Faith did to me, and you take her home and give her a place to stay and a bed to sleep in?"

"And fed her jelly doughnuts," Cordelia offered. "Wesley got dumped off at his apartment to take care of himself, and Faith gets the nice soft bed at Angel's complete with doughnuts for breakfast."

No one was pretending not to listen now. Everyone including Giles was staring at Angel in open-mouthed disbelief.

"It wasn't like that," Angel protested. "Not exactly."

"Then how exactly was it, Angel?" Buffy demanded. "It certainly looked like that from where I was standing, which was on your stairs watching you and Faith doing the cuddly. I thought Wesley got those bruises fighting demons. He drove me to the police station when you were arrested, and he never said a word about what Faith did to him." She folded her arms and gave him a hard look. "Now I think I know why. You chose Faith over him. That wouldn't be something he'd want to talk about."

"I did not choose Faith over him." Angel was angry now and he took a step closer to Buffy so he was looming over her, although she looked distinctly unimpressed. "I mean, I did have to make a choice," he amended, faltering a bit. "A decision. Wesley wouldn't stay under the same roof as Faith, he made that clear. But I knew Wesley was okay, meaning I knew _he_ wasn't going to walk in front of a bus or jump off a bridge or go off on a killing spree, but Faith --"

"Faith could only be helped by you," Xander inserted dryly. "You gotta watch that ego thing, Angel. It's not attractive."

Angel ignored Xander and appealed to Buffy. "Buffy, you know how dangerous Faith is. She was desperate, and I didn't know what she might do next. She wanted to die, and she wanted me to kill her. She only kidnapped Wesley to make me come after her."

"And that made it okay?" Willow's voice was so sharp that everyone looked at her in surprise. "Show me a universe where that would be okay. Angel, if you have to choose between helping a friend, who by the way never stops talking about you and your mythic destiny and what a great champion you are and how he's so proud to be helping you, who's been tortured and hurt, and the psycho Slayer who tortured him, I don't think it's that hard to make the right choice. You had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. And yet somehow you didn't." Giles couldn't help thinking how he wouldn't want that look of disapproval on Willow's face turned in his direction.

He told himself he was keeping out of this. It was certainly a shock to learn that Wesley had been tortured by Faith. He still vividly remembered his own torture at the hands of Angelus, and he couldn't stop himself from imagining what Wesley might have gone through at Faith's hands. He also remembered his own feelings of betrayal when he learned Buffy was sheltering Angel after his return from the hell dimension and hadn't told him. Perhaps he wasn't the best judge of the situation or the most unbiased person in the room, but while he may have understood some of Angel's reasoning when faced with the possibility of a psychotic Slayer on the loose, his sympathies were entirely with Wesley in this. Still, this wasn't the time or the place, and he doubted Wesley would appreciate them all debating the situation like this. "All right, that's enough," he said sternly. "Whatever happened, we weren't there. This is between Angel and Wesley."

"And me," Cordelia added firmly.

"And Cordelia," Giles added with the realization that was true. 

Buffy was still looking up at Angel with something close to dislike. "Well, it's nice to know where Faith is concerned, I wasn't the only one to be screwed over."

Cordelia was studying the nails on one hand. "Yep. Where Faith is concerned, Angel's an equal-opportunity --"

"Cordelia," Angel warned sharply.

"--kind of guy," Cordelia finished without missing a beat.

Angel was looking a bit like a cornered creature, but Giles couldn't particularly find any sympathy for him. Except perhaps over how he kept shooting anxious glances at the doorway and then the window, as dawn crept closer and they hadn't yet heard any word about Wesley.

As if on cue, a doctor stepped into the doorway with a clipboard and asked, "Is anyone here for Wyndam-Pryce?" then took a startled step back as everyone who was seated jumped up and he found himself surrounded.

"We're all here for Wesley," Angel explained quickly. "How is he?"

"He's just being moved to his room. We removed the bolt with no complications. He's very lucky; it didn't hit the bone, and you all did a good job of immobilizing his leg to keep damage to a minimum. He'll need some physical therapy of course --"

"Again," Cordelia muttered under her breath.

"--but I don't foresee any long term problems." He flipped a page on the chart and frowned at it, then transferred his frown to them. "I understand he was recently released from a hospital in Los Angeles."

"He was in an accident," Angel explained. "He's only been out a few days. Why? What's wrong?"

"He seems rather run-down for someone who should have been taking it easy. His blood pressure is a little low and he's slightly anemic. In fact he has all the classic symptoms of exhaustion." He stopped there and looked around the group, obviously waiting for an explanation.

Giles stepped forward, easing around Cordelia. "Excuse me, doctor. I'm Rupert Giles, Wesley's uncle," he said smoothly. "I'm afraid that's mainly my fault. That is to say, Wesley's working on his thesis, studying for his doctorate in linguistics. You remember how much pressure that is, I'm sure. I knew he was working too hard, but it's so important to him I didn't have the heart to make him stop his research."

"Linguistics?" The doctor looked sympathetic. "Tough field. Look, I remember what that's like, but he is going to have to slow down a little. We're going to keep him here for a couple of days anyhow, and we'll get some vitamins and iron into him, but then you're going to have to make sure he paces himself. I don't want to see him back in here with a case of exhaustion."

"Neither do I," Giles agreed honestly.

"Good. He tells me he'll be going back to L.A. soon. Will he have someone to stay with him?"

"Yes," Angel answered immediately. He indicated Cordelia. "We'll take care of him."

The doctor nodded. "He'll be on crutches for a while, and I'll give you instructions for his care. He'll need to follow up with his G.P. when he goes back to Los Angeles." 

"Can we see him?" Cordelia asked impatiently.

The doctor looked at her curiously. "Are you Cordelia?"

She looked surprised. "Yes."

"Were you with him when he had his other accident?"

"Why?"

"He's very agitated, keeps insisting he has to save you and he keeps trying to get out of bed. If we don't get him settled down, I'm going to have to give him a sedative and restrain him."

"No, don't do that! He just needs to see I'm okay. Please, just let me see him. Once he knows I'm okay and Angel's okay --" she grabbed Angel's arm -- "he'll settle down. Please."

The doctor smiled at her. "That's what I had in mind. He's a little disoriented, which is to be expected when he woke up in a strange hospital with a bunch of strangers around, but I think seeing a couple of familiar faces will do the trick. You can only stay a few minutes because he needs his rest."

"That's all we need," Angel assured him, and he and Cordelia followed the doctor down the hallway.

 

Even though it was a relief to see Wesley alive and safe, Cordelia felt her heart give a painful jolt when she saw how pale and exhausted he looked. And thin. How had he lost weight when they were keeping such close tabs on him and making him eat regular meals? He was talking earnestly to a nurse and trying to sit up while she kept a firm hand on his shoulder and held him down. The nurse was making soothing noises to him, but Cordelia could hear him insisting he needed to get up. Someone else, like Willow or Tara, would probably have run over and patted his arm and mopped his brow and insisted gently he needed to listen to the doctors and stay in bed, but there was a better way to handle Wesley, and luckily Cordelia knew it.

"Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," she said loudly, marching over to his bedside, her heels clicking smartly on the floor, "what do you think you're doing?"

He started and blinked up at her owlishly. "Cordelia?"

She glanced at the nurse. "I'll take over from here," she said crisply. "He won't be giving you any more trouble." Turning her stern gaze on him, she added, "Will you?"

Wesley was still blinking at her, frowning in confusion, but he automatically answered, "Of course not." 

The nurse moved away and Cordelia heard her leave the room. Now that she had his attention and he was no longer fixating on climbing out of bed, she took his hand and squeezed it gently. "You're in Sunnydale, Wesley, remember?"

"Oh." His eyes slid shut and he sighed. "Yes, of course." He opened his eyes and looked up at her. "I woke up in a hospital and..."

"Yeah, flashback," she said, giving him an understanding smile. "But you remember where you are now, right?"

He nodded tiredly. "Yes."

"Good." She smacked his arm. "Then tell me how someone gets shot by a _vampire_?"

"Ow?" Wesley said uncertainly, and looked over at Angel on the other side of the bed with 'help me' eyes.

"We're just glad you're okay," Angel said swiftly, giving him a gentle pat on his other arm while throwing Cordelia a frown. "Everyone is."

"Yep, the gang's all here," Cordelia told him, pulling a chair over to the bed and settling in. As confused as Wesley was the first time he woke up, she didn't think it was a good idea for him to wake up again without seeing a familiar face, so they could just try to pry her out of this chair if they thought she was going to leave. 

"What...gang?" Wesley asked, perplexed.

"The Scooby Pack," Cordelia answered breezily. "They're all in the waiting room, but the doctor only let us come back." 

Wesley frowned as if trying to remember something. "And Willow and Tara --"

"--are right as rain," she said promptly. "Whatever that means."

He looked relieved, then immediately anxious again. "The translation --"

"Giles is working on it," Angel told him firmly. "He's got your notes to go by. He'll be fine."

"Yes, but --"

"No buts, buster," Cordelia interrupted. "Do you know the doctor actually used the word 'exhausted' to describe you?"

"That's absurd. I'm not exhausted. I'm just --"

"--recovering from being caught in an explosion and now from leg surgery," Angel said quietly. "I think that's enough for one person to handle, don't you?" He leaned closer, his face grave. "Wesley, you did your part. You did more than your part. This is where you step out and let the rest of us do our parts." He glanced at the window and grimaced. "I've got to get back to the Magic Box. It's almost dawn..."

"Of course," Wesley agreed, immediately anxious on Angel's behalf. "Angel, you should leave now. You don't want to be caught out when the sun comes up."

"He's only been doing this for like over two hundred years, Wesley," Cordelia said, flapping a hand at Angel. "I think he can make his way across Sunnydale without turning into a pile of ash."

"She's right." Angel gave him a reassuring grin. "Used to live here, remember? I know the sewer system pretty well."

"Yes, of course," Wesley murmured. He looked like he was beginning to drift in and out of the conversation a bit, and Cordelia jerked her head sharply at the door to try to get Angel moving.

Angel nodded and once again gave Wesley's arm a gentle pat. "You take it easy, Wes, and don't worry about --"

"Thank you, Angel," Wesley murmured drowsily.

"What?"

Wesley blinked his eyes open and turned his gaze on Angel, smiling sleepily. "For finding me. For getting there in time."

Cordelia nearly snorted in disgust. There it was, the 'you're my hero' eyes Wesley always turned in Angel's direction, whether the vampire rescued him from a burning building or handed him a plate of scrambled eggs. The only time she hadn't seen that worshipful gaze was when Angel was harboring Faith, but even then Wesley hadn't been able to hold out very long. Even while he was still wearing bruises on his face he was back to worrying about Angel and Angel's destiny and his mission and blah blah blah. 

"At least this time he brought you to a hospital," she muttered.

Angel shot her a warning look over Wesley's head. "Cordelia."

Wesley was frowning at them both. "What?"

"Nothing," Cordelia said with a bright smile. "Angel has to go. So, good-bye, Angel."

Angel looked at her a moment longer, his expression grim, then turned a gentler expression on Wesley. "Get some rest, Wesley. I'll see you later." And then with a flap of his coattails he was gone.

As Cordelia smoothed the blankets over Wesley she looked up to find him watching her with a little frown. "What?"

"Why are you angry at Angel?"

"What makes you think I'm mad at Angel?"

He managed to snag her moving hand and stilled it. "Because I know you. Why are you angry with him?"

She knew Wesley too, and she knew he'd continue to fight sleep and rest until he got an answer to his question. "It was the Faith thing," she answered crossly, and didn't miss the way the muscles in his hand tensed at the mention of the Slayer's name. "Angel was so wrong in how he handled that, and you know it. Even Willow said he had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it --"

"Willow?" Wesley's voice rose sharply. "What does Willow know about it?"

Oh crap. Cordelia certainly hadn't meant to let that particular cat out of the bag. She knew Wesley wouldn't appreciate knowing they'd been sitting out there discussing what Faith had done to him. But on the other hand, would it be so bad for him to know the people who wouldn't give him the time of day when he'd come to Sunnydale as a Watcher, were now all on his side? "They all know, Wesley," she confessed, rubbing his arm soothingly. "But it's okay. They all think Angel was wrong."

Wesley closed his eyes and turned his head away with a little moan.

"Wesley, are you okay?" she asked anxiously. "What's wrong?"

"I'll never be able to face them again," he murmured. "I failed Faith when I was her Watcher, and I failed again --"

"You didn't fail her, Wesley," Cordelia said firmly. "She was a psycho when she was in Sunnydale, and she almost killed you in Los Angeles."

But Wesley shook his head. "Angel was right both times."

"That's debatable," said a quiet voice from the doorway.

Cordelia looked around sharply to find Giles standing in the doorway with Willow and Tara pressed closely behind him.

Wesley squeezed his eyes shut even tighter, then heaved a sigh and opened them, bringing his gaze around to meet Giles' with steely determination. 

Giles walked into the room with Willow and Tara trailing behind, and stopped by Wesley's side across from Cordelia. "This isn't the time to discuss it, Wesley," he said kindly. "But perhaps when you're feeling better we can talk about what happened. I've had a lot of time to think about how I behaved when you came here as Watcher as well as Faith's situation, and I think you may be surprised by my opinion."

Wesley didn't look very cheered by that news, but he murmured, "Very well."

"We didn't mean to intrude," Giles continued, glancing at Cordelia, "but I did want to put your mind at rest about the translation."

Wesley immediately perked up. "It's finished?"

"It is indeed, thanks to your very complete notes. I had no trouble at all following the pattern you outlined. Your training has served you well."

Cordelia was relieved to see a surprised little smile on Wesley's face at that praise before he ducked his head to hide it. "That's the way it's supposed to work," he said softly. "One Watcher picking up where another left off. Working together..." His voice trailed off, and Cordelia saw Giles wince.

"Yes, well, I do wish we -- I -- that is, both of us --"

"Giles wishes he hadn't been such a poopy-head to you when you were here the first time, Wesley," Willow put in helpfully.

Giles straightened. "I don't believe 'poopy-head' is a term I would have used precisely."

"But it certainly fits," Cordelia told him. 

Willow and Tara slipped around Giles and smiled down at Wesley. "We're going to be doing the counter-spell tonight," Willow told him, eyes sparkling with excitement. "We just need to get the ingredients together."

Giles put in, "The very last line left no doubt as to the timing. It must be done tonight, and then Haach-mal will be sealed in his hell dimension for another two hundred years. Long enough for us not to have to worry about him again at any rate."

"I wish you could be with us," Tara said softly. "You did all the work. It doesn't seem right that you don't get to be there to see it."

"Why can't he be there?" Willow asked suddenly. "I mean, why can't we do the spell right here? We can bring the ingredients in and Wesley can be part of the circle."

Suddenly everyone, including Wesley, was turning toward Cordelia as if asking for permission, and she preened a little, gratified at that response. She really did rule. Deliberately, she crossed her arms as if considering their request and stared at the faces turned her way. The open pleading on Willow and Tara's faces would have been hard enough to deny, but the imploring expression on Wesley's was too much for her. "He can't do anything that will tire him out," she told them sternly.

"Tara and I will be doing the spell," Willow assured her quickly. "Wesley can help us complete the circle." She looked down at Wesley. "If it hadn't been for Wesley we never would have gotten this far, and I think he deserves to see it work."

Actually Cordelia thought so too, and she wouldn't have denied Wesley that for anything. "All right," she said finally, as if she'd given it consideration and decided to grant their request. "But Wesley has to rest all day," she said, giving him a stern look.

He gave her a grateful smile.

"Which starts now," she added pointedly.

"Yes, of course," Giles said immediately. "We'll leave you to it. Wesley, we'll see you this evening."

Willow and Tara each leaned over and gave Wesley a kiss on his cheek. On their way out, Cordelia heard Tara whisper to Willow, "He has such a sweet aura."

"Thank you, Cordelia," Wesley said drowsily. His eyes were already closing, and he was asleep before she got the blankets smoothed out over his chest.

 

The day passed quietly. Wesley slept through most of it, thanks to the combination of exhaustion and pain medication. On her first visit to a coffee vending machine Cordelia had been surprised to find Xander still in the waiting room. He explained he'd stayed behind in case any of Haach-mal's followers managed to track Wesley to the hospital. The two of them managed to have a civilized conversation for a few minutes before she took her coffee back to Wesley's room, and she discovered she actually felt relieved about that. Xander Harris had hurt her badly at one point in her life, but she didn't want to think about that or dredge up hurt feelings every time she saw him. It really was much nicer to just be able to talk to him when their paths crossed. Which hopefully wouldn't happen again for a very long time.

Dusk brought Giles, Willow and Tara back to Wesley's hospital room. Angel had checked in by phone during the day, and now he and Buffy were patrolling, hoping to find the demon worshippers. Now that they had the counter-spell they really didn't need to stop them in any other way, but Buffy wanted to make sure they knew they weren't welcome in Sunnydale and she thought the best way to convey that message was face to face. Angel happened to agree and apparently wanted to convey a message of his own.

Cordelia had the head of the bed raised so Wesley could sit comfortably, and he watched attentively as Willow and Tara mixed herbs into a clay bowl they sat on the foot of his bed. Every now and then he'd ask a question and then nod at the answer. Cordelia recognized some of the herbs from ones Wesley used at home, but others were totally unfamiliar to her. Wesley seemed to recognize them all though, and when he would see Cordelia looking puzzled over something, he would quietly explain it. It was good to see him with some color in his cheeks and with the smudges under his eyes lightening somewhat now that he didn't have the weight of the translation on his shoulders. And besides, Wesley did love the mojo. 

Once all the herbs were mixed in the bowl and all the candles lit, Giles turned down the lights. Tara took Wesley's hand, Willow took hers, and Giles took Willow's. Cordelia was standing back out of the way, letting them get to it, when Wesley held out his hand, looking at her expectantly. As she took it with a sigh, she made a mental note to herself that Wesley was getting his own way much too often, and she'd have to get him back on a proper training program once they got back home. 

As with most magic rituals Cordelia had taken part in, she had no idea what was being said or if it worked. The clay bowl of herbs did glow brightly for a few moments and some scented smoke wafted in the air which Cordelia worried would set up smoke alarms, but then Giles let go of her hand and turned on the light again, and Willow, Tara and Wesley were all looking pleased, so she assumed it was over. "Is that it?" she asked.

"That's it," Willow told her cheerfully. 

"Well done," Wesley said, smiling at Willow and Tara.

Willow gave him a look Cordelia couldn't interpret. "You didn't do so badly yourself."

"Why didn't you tell us?" Tara asked.

"Tell you what?" Cordelia asked, annoyed at of being left out of the conversation.

Giles was looking at Wesley. "I believe Tara is referring to Wesley's power. It came through quite strongly."

"You've got power? As in...witchy power?"

"It's nothing like Willow and Tara's considerable power," Wesley objected. 

Tara looked at him solemnly. "Don't sell yourself short. I think most of your power is latent. You just need to use it more, bring it out so it's there when you need it."

"Tara's very good about sensing power in people," Willow told him.

"You could practice with us before you have to go home," Tara suggested. "The more you use it, the easier it is to access it, and with your discipline it wouldn't take any time at all."

Wesley was actually blushing at the praise, which was apparently only making him more endearing by the moment to Willow and Tara. When both looked as though they were about to suggest adopting him, Cordelia stepped in. "Okay, Mr. Mojo Guy here has had a long day. The bad guy is locked in his hell dimension for another two hundred years and we lived to tell the tale, so let's all go home and get a good night's sleep." She turned back to Wesley. "The doctor said he might be able to release you tomorrow, so try not to look like the Poster Boy for the Exhausted and Underfed, okay? The sooner we get you out of here, the sooner we get to go back home. Not that it hasn't been fun," she added with a false smile to the others, "but we've got a business to run back in L.A."

"But you'll come see us before you leave," Willow insisted. "We can all meet over at the Magic Box." She transferred her pleading gaze to Wesley. "Promise you won't leave without saying good-bye."

Wesley looked scandalized by the very idea. "Certainly not." He turned that lethal blue gaze on Cordelia. "Will we, Cordelia?"

Cordelia decided she was going to step up that training program the moment they left the Sunnydale town limits. "As if," she said brightly, hoping like hell that Willow didn't get the bright idea to try to throw some kind of Geek Party of the Century.

 

Giles watched Willow, Tara and Buffy put the finishing touches on the food and decorations inside the Magic Box, while he and Xander stood by for orders to carry heavy things around and tried to sneak bits of food without being caught. So far, Xander was miles ahead in that. Giles did manage to cadge a deviled egg while Willow's attention was elsewhere and mused about how different things were from the first time they were waiting for the Angel Investigations team to arrive. Then, everyone had been tense and worried about how the two teams were going to work together, Buffy had been stressed about seeing Angel again, Xander had been cracking jokes about Cordelia, and he had been admittedly somewhat resentful about having to call in Wesley to help him. Now look at them. The Magic Box was festooned with balloons and streamers and the tables where they had done their research now held plates of finger food, sandwiches and a cake in the center with the words 'United We Stand'. 

It had apparently been Tara's idea to buy out the local bakery of little plastic figures, and she had spent the afternoon transforming them into replicas for each member of the two teams. Two male figures in gowns, which had originally been for graduation cakes, had been transformed with little pointed hats to represent wizard hats, and she had painstakingly written tiny symbols on the scrolls to change them from graduation scrolls to what she dubbed 'demony scrolls'. These were Giles and Wesley. Buffy was represented by a blonde female form in blue jeans that was now holding a toothpick to represent a stake. A dark-haired groom had been transformed with little inked fangs into Angel. Willow and Tara were symbolized by two females in graduation gowns with little witches' hats on their heads. Xander was a soldier with a little handmade axe. And Cordelia was represented by a dark-haired cheerleader with a tiny baseball bat glued into her hand. It was obvious Tara had gone to a great deal of time and effort on the little figures, and the sentiment was a sound one: the two teams had put differences aside and united to win the day. Giles just hoped Cordelia didn't breeze in her with her usual tactless comments and hurt the girl's feelings.

Even as this thought crossed his mind, the bell over the door announced the entrance of the AI team. Wesley came in first, with Angel and Cordelia both hovering close behind as Wesley balanced uncertainly on his crutches. Giles and Xander quickly stepped out of the way as Willow and Tara hurried over to greet them.

Wesley looked around at the decorations, eyes wide. "Is this a party?"

"It's the party we talked about, remember?" Willow reminded him. "Our celebration-slash-good-bye party." She waved a hand around. "We've got the food, and we had music, but Giles made us turn it off."

"That was not music," Giles muttered, snatching another egg. "Bay City Rollers. Now _that_ was music."

"Come and see our cake," Willow urged him. "It's kind of a team cake. Everybody's on it."

Wesley smiled happily as Willow and Tara led him over to the cake where Buffy was waiting for them. Angel and Cordelia trailed behind, Angel looking wary at the first mention of 'party', and Cordelia looking bored but resigned. When everyone was gathered around the cake, Giles saw Tara shrinking back behind Willow as Wesley, Angel and Cordelia looked it over. Just when Giles decided he'd better say something to break the silence, Cordelia squealed, "That's me! Look! That's me! I'm the cheerleader!"

"So you are," Wesley murmured fondly. "And there's Angel."

"Oh, and there's you and Giles," Cordelia pointed. "In the funny hats."

"I'll have you know those are authentic wizard's hats," Wesley informed her in an imitation of his best rounded tones, winking at Tara. He squinted and immediately leaned down. "Oh, there's writing on the scrolls," he discovered, sounding delighted. 

"Tara did all of it," Willow told them, stepping aside so she was no longer blocking Tara from view.

"Nice job," Cordelia told her. "Can I have me?"

It took a moment for Tara to understand what Cordelia was asking, but she nodded. "Sure."

"Cool." Cordelia deftly plucked the cheerleader from the top of the cake and then added the Wesley and Angel figures. "Got to keep the team together," she explained, wrapping them carefully in a napkin. "Okay, are we going to stand here, or are we going to get Wesley a chair so he can sit down and we can eat?"

That got everyone moving, and within moments, Wesley was seated with his crutches in Angel's hands and Cordelia was filling a plate with food for him. A week ago, Giles would never have imagined these people in a pleasant social gathering. Aside from Angel, who hovered on the fringes, holding Wesley's crutches, everyone else filled plates with food, and casual conversation filled the Magic Box. Giles hadn't had a chance to talk to Wesley yet on any of the subjects he wanted to touch on, but he knew this wasn't the time. Tonight was a time for relaxing and celebrating; time enough later to get serious. He'd worked with Wesley long enough now to feel he knew the younger man a lot better than he had before, and he felt Wesley would most likely respond favorably to his suggestions about consulting and keeping in touch on a regular basis. Wesley was a valuable resource -- as he himself could be to Angel Investigations -- and resources couldn't be squandered in the fight they were both engaged in. He was listening to Wesley coaxing Tara into telling him about the first spell she'd learned when a sudden shriek from Cordelia startled them all.

He snapped around to find that Cordelia had slid onto the floor and was holding her head in obvious pain while Angel knelt by her side, pulling her back to lean against him. A warning shout from Xander brought him back around to see Xander and Buffy surging forward to grab Wesley's arms just in time to keep him from falling over as he jumped to his feet, obviously forgetting one leg wasn't functional yet.

"Whoa, easy there, Wesley," Xander cautioned.

"Wesley, _stop_ ," Buffy said more succinctly.

"No, let me go. You don't understand."

"It's all right, Wes," Angel called over his shoulder. "I've got her."

"See, the big guy's got her," Xander soothed, firmly pushing Wesley back down into his chair. 

Wesley fumbled in his coat pocket and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen which he thrust at Willow. "Please, go over there and write down whatever she says. It's important."

Willow only hesitated an instant, then nodded and quickly joined Angel and Cordelia, kneeling down beside them, pen and pad at the ready. 

"All right, Wesley, what the hell is going on?" Xander demanded, keeping his voice low. "What's wrong with Cordelia? Migraines?"

Giles moved closer so he could hear what Wesley said, while keeping an eye on the three on the floor.

Wesley's gaze never left Angel and Cordelia as he quickly and quietly told them about Cordelia's visions, The Powers that Be, their mission, and the terrible toll the visions took on Cordelia when they hit. Buffy had a shocked look on her face as she stared at Cordelia, as it seemed to occur to her that here was another young woman her age who had been Chosen in the fight and given no choice in the matter. How extraordinary, Giles mused, that it would turn out to be Cordelia Chase. Xander looked grim as he watched Angel help Cordelia back into her chair, and Tara leaned over and whispered in Wesley's ear, "Can we do anything to help?"

"Her bag," Wesley answered immediately. "She has painkillers in there."

Tara nodded and went over to the counter where Cordelia had placed her handbag, and carried that and a glass of water over to Cordelia. Even from where he was standing, Giles could see Cordelia's hands were shaking as she rubbed her forehead while Angel pulled a bottle of pills out of her bag. Buffy moved over to join Tara and Willow, and Angel left the slowly recovering Cordelia in their hands as he came over to join the rest of them.

"We have time," he told Wesley. "Shirock demon and some campers on the beach tomorrow night." He shrugged. "I guess the Powers wanted to give us enough warning to get home."

"Can you handle it yourself?" Wesley asked, frowning. "Shirocks mate for life, and therefore usually travel in pairs."

"I've handled Shirocks before. I know what to expect." Angel shrugged. "And I can always call Gunn for back-up."

Wesley peered around him at Cordelia. "How's she doing?" he whispered.

"About what you'd expect. At this point, she just wants to go home." He looked at Giles apologetically. "We need to get going."

"Of course." Giles hesitated, then said, "If I could have a moment with Wesley."

He didn’t miss the questioning look Angel gave Wesley or the way the vampire hesitated before agreeing. "Sure."

When they were alone, Giles looked down to find Wesley had tensed up and was gazing at him anxiously. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh, no, of course not," Giles hastened to assure him. "I think we all learned a great deal while we were pooling our resources, mainly how well we could work together, and I'd like to keep the channels of communication open between us." As he spoke he saw Wesley thankfully begin to relax. "I think there are times when we could assist each other, and I'd like to be able to call on you and I'd like you to know you can call on me."

"Yes, of course. I'd like that very much. Thank you, Giles."

Giles put out his hand and Wesley took it in a firm grip. "Thank _you_ , Wesley. We couldn't have done this without you."

Wesley ducked his head, but not before Giles saw the pleased smile on his face. "Here you go, Wesley." Wesley looked up as Willow brought over his crutches, and Xander and Giles automatically moved to each side, pulling him to his feet and steadying him until he was balanced on his crutches. 

Willow and Tara each gave Wesley a quick hug, but they could see him throwing worried glances Cordelia's way, so they didn't linger. Once again, Giles thought back to the day Angel Investigations arrived here and how he never could have predicted a parting like this. 

With Cordelia leaning on Angel and Wesley on his crutches, the battered team of Angel Investigations walked, staggered and limped out of the Magic Box.

##### Epilogue

Angel took no note of the gaily decorated store windows and streets as he drove back to Cordelia's apartment. He was on his nightly mail run, picking up the mail at Wesley's apartment and at the post office box they'd set up after the office had been destroyed. He really did have to find another office, and soon. It seemed like every night Wesley needed 'just one more reference book' from his apartment, and Cordelia's apartment, spacious as it was, was getting pretty crowded. Once Wesley was off his crutches, he could at least go back to his own place, but neither he nor Cordelia would allow him to go back to his third story apartment until then. As Cordelia put it, 'I really don't need a phone call in the middle of the night from your landlord telling me you've fallen down those rickety old stairs and the ambulance is on the way.' Wesley was barely proficient with his crutches in Cordelia's living room, and it didn't bear thinking about him climbing three flights of stairs. So until he found another suitable place to live and conduct business, and Wesley was off his crutches and able to climb stairs, they were all sharing space.

Not that it was unpleasant, Angel mused. He'd gotten used to having these two humans around and having their chatter and/or bickering in the background. The fact that one of the humans had grown up on a Hellmouth and the other had been trained to be a Watcher practically from birth actually made it easier, because they knew what he was and what to expect. For himself, he was still learning about them and what to expect. Knowing Wesley and Cordelia had had a crush on each other in Sunnydale but that their illusions had apparently been shattered by one kiss, it was still surprising to him that the two had fallen so easily into a sibling-like relationship. For all their arguments, Cordelia could be fiercely protective of Wesley, and he had seen Wesley show Cordelia tenderness and concern and prove that he would do anything for her. He would do anything for them as well, he admitted, and apparently that meant celebrating Christmas.

He wasn't very big on Christmas, and he got the impression neither was Wesley, but they both accepted Cordelia's declaration that they were going to have a 'real old-fashioned' Christmas, complete with turkey and stuffing and a Christmas tree and eggnog and lots and lots of presents. He and Wesley both suspected the rest of the trappings were just to get to the 'lots and lots of presents', but as close as Angel had come to losing both of them recently, he was happy to go along with whatever Cordelia wanted, and apparently Wesley was too. So he'd brought home the tree Cordelia picked out, and she and Wesley had decorated it. Of course, Wesley's participation consisted of balancing on his crutches and placing ornaments where Cordelia told him to, but he seemed okay with that. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and they were going to go along with Cordelia's tradition of opening presents the night before Christmas, although he heard Wesley mutter if she thought she could have gotten away with having them open them the week before Christmas, she would have tried. As he pulled the car to the curb in front of Cordelia's he could see the Christmas tree in front of the window, lights twinkling merrily, and the shadow of Wesley moving jerkily from one end of the living room to the other. Angel would be glad when he was able to move on to a cane, because he really was lethal with those crutches.

By the time he unloaded the car of mail, the food items Cordelia ordered, and some Christmas shopping he'd done at the last minute, and got inside, Wesley was smiling at something on the computer and Cordelia was leaning over his shoulder, reading along with him, her hand on his shoulder to brace herself. 

"What's up?" he asked, carrying the food into the kitchen.

"An email from Willow and Tara," Cordelia told him.

"Willow sends Chanukkah greetings," Wesley said, still smiling at the screen, "and Tara wishes us a blessed Solstice."

"Do you get presents with Chanukkah and Solstice?" Cordelia wondered out loud. 

"Not traditionally," Wesley told her dryly.

With that Cordelia seemed to lose interest and went into the kitchen to check on the food Angel brought. "There's eggnog, Angel," she called out. "I _wanted_ to make you a special eggnog with your blood, but Wesley wouldn't let me."

"As I told you, Cordelia, I very much doubt Angel wanted cream and whisky in his blood."

As Angel shot him a panicked look, Wesley lowered his voice, "It's all right. I stopped her in time. Your blood supply is safe. For now at least."

Angel mouthed a 'thank you' to him as he walked over to the punch bowl of eggnog and dipped himself a small cup of it. 

Wesley shut down the email program and got to his feet, fitting the crutches under his arms. "I also received a very helpful document from Giles. He found a rare reference entry for a Mall'pat demon, and he asked Willow to scan it and send it to me. It contained some wonderful information and could come in very handy. I'll have Cordelia add it to our database."

As Wesley made his way over, Angel poured a cup of eggnog and handed it to him. "So you and Giles, things are okay between you now?"

Wesley took a drink, then paused before answering slowly, "When I left Sunnydale the first time, I felt as if I had failed Giles as well as Buffy and Faith. I always regretted coming in the way I did and never being able to really work with him. He had so much more experience than I did, yet we never connected in a way we could work as a team."

"That wasn't exactly all your fault, Wesley. Giles was the experienced Watcher; he should have worked with you instead of making things harder for you."

"I think there are regrets on both sides," Wesley said thoughtfully. "In any event I think the channels of communication are open now, and I'm very pleased we'll have Giles' knowledge to call on now."

Angel nodded. "Giles is a good guy." He passed Wesley on the way to a chair, patting him gently on the shoulder. "But I haven't noticed any lack of knowledge on the team here." Even without looking back Angel could imagine the expression of pleased surprise that would be on Wesley's face and the quick modest smile he would try to hide. 

He had just picked up the book he was reading when Wesley said sharply, "Cordelia!" He looked up to find Wesley glaring at something on the Christmas tree as Cordelia walked out of the kitchen with a plate of cookies.

"You don't have to shout, Wesley, I'm right here. Besides, you'll scare Dennis."

Sitting his eggnog aside, Wesley gripped his crutches and jerked his head at the Christmas tree. "What is the meaning of this?"

"Meaning of what? The Christmas tree? Weren't you the one who droned on and on and _on_ last week about how Christmas trees were born when Angel brought it in?"

"I mean, what is the meaning of _this_?" Wesley pointed at an ornament that Angel could now see was the cheerleader figure from Tara's cake. There was a pretty ribbon tied around the waist of the little cheerleader and she swung happily from a branch of the tree, tiny baseball bat at the ready. "And _this_?" When Wesley stepped aside Angel saw there were two more little figures, one in a wizard's hat and one with little fangs. But instead of pretty ribbons around their waists... huh. "Would you like to tell me why Angel and I have nooses around our necks while you have a ribbon around your waist?"

Cordelia folded her arms as she faced him. "In the first place, Wesley, those aren't you and Angel. They're little plastic people. And in the second place, I only had one piece of ribbon. Did you want me to give _you_ the girly ribbon?"

"Well, it would have been a great deal nicer than the hangman's noose you currently have tied around my neck. How did you even know how to tie a hangman's noose?"

"I used to spend my summers at Cape Cod. We went boating every day and I learned how to tie every knot known to man." When she turned away, Angel could see she was grinning. 

"So it was deliberate?" Wesley demanded.

She smothered her grin and turned back to him. "Okay, Wesley, I'll tell you what. I'll tie the knot somewhere else." It may have been a reasonable statement but it was the way she said it that made Wesley wisely hesitate.

"No, that won't be necessary," he said stiffly. "It just seems in bad taste to me."

Cordelia let her gaze travel from his head to his feet. "No, bad taste is wearing those pants with that sweater." This time she was smiling widely as she turned away and went back to the kitchen, leaving Wesley looking down at his pants with a worried frown. Then he narrowed his eyes and stealthily took the little cheerleader from the tree and slipped it into his pocket before going over to the sofa and sitting down with his eggnog.

Angel sighed and opened his book again. He had an idea that cheerleader was going to be showing up in ways guaranteed to cause maximum irritation to Cordelia over the course of the holidays, and somehow he would be dragged into the middle of it. He also realized, with some surprise and a little smile to himself, that he didn't mind in the least.

##### End

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: ANGEL and its characters is the property of Joss Whedon (Mutant Enemy), David Greenwalt (LazyDave), Fox, and the WB network. No copyright infringement is intended. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.


End file.
